


Love Alters Not

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 56,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Olivia discovers one of Alex's secrets, it forces her to reconcile her past and her job with the love she thought she knew. Olivia/Alex, Season 3. (Warning: this story deals with rape fantasies, but no non-consensual sex takes place).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with some sensitive subject matter, including rape fantasies and BDSM. It takes place during an AU Season 3 where Alex and Olivia are already dating, in a happy universe where Alex doesn't disappear two seasons later. The narrative follows Olivia as she attempts to reconcile her experiences on the job and her own past with Alex's desires. All the sex scenes in the story are consensual, but there will be roleplays of non-consensual sex (some successful, some definitely not). This story also includes humiliation play and strap-ons, although that's pretty par for the course with me. I would love any and all kind, constructive feedback on this one, whether it's just a much-appreciated "great job" to let me know the subject matter spoke to you, suggestions for future chapters of the story, or gently pointing out things that you believe I could have handled better.

I'm still shivering as I stand in front of the door to her apartment, even though I'm inside, protected from the ragged bursts of wind. The only reason my hands haven't frozen off is the warm takeout boxes I'm carrying, deliberately leaning them against my chest instead of using the handles so that my palms can be on the bottom of the hot cardboard. I had forgotten my jacket at Alex's earlier this morning, and braving the wind between the skyscrapers in nothing but a sweater wasn't one of my better ideas.

Finally, after a moment - Alex checking cautiously through the peephole, I'm sure - the door opens, and she's smiling at me, her hair still slightly damp from the shower and clinging to the pale line of her neck. "God, Olivia, you look frozen," she murmurs, taking the warm boxes and backing up to let me in.

I sigh, rubbing the tops of my arms through my sweater as I step inside and nudge the door shut with the sole of my shoe. "Didn't think it would get this cold," I explain, a little embarrassed. "I should have played it safe and brought my winter coat to work."

Alex stares at me for a moment from over the tops of her glasses, long enough for a small wrinkle to form in the middle of her forehead. Somehow, that look of concentration always makes my heart skip, even when it's not directed at me. Then, her face breaks into a soft, glowing smile. Suddenly, I don't feel so cold. "Sometimes I don't understand you, Olivia Benson," she sighs, dropping a kiss against the corner of my mouth.

It's not enough, and I try to press forward for more, but she's already turning around, loose sheets of silky blonde hair shifting between her shoulderblades as she heads towards the kitchen with a sway in her hips. I trail after her, taking the time for once to truly appreciate the sight of Alex Cabot walking away. In the squadroom, I have to watch myself. She's still wearing her work clothes, one of my favorite teal skirt and jacket combinations over a white blouse. She hasn't even taken her makeup off yet, and she looks as though she just stepped out of court.

"I wasn't expecting you yet," she says without turning around, setting the boxes on the center of the kitchen island.

I frown. Sometimes, I swear she can read my thoughts. "I got off a little early…"

This time, she does turn to face me, and she's still smiling, although I realize for the first time that she looks tired. I had been paying too much attention to the way her blue eyes looked framed by her glasses to notice the shadows underneath. "Well, I hope you're prepared to get off again, Detective Benson, because I have plans for you later." Her voice is a low purr, a tease.

I can't resist. I step forward, and she lets my hands settle on her hips, even cupping her fingers over mine to keep them there. When I lean down and forward ever so slightly to take her lips, she parts them for my tongue. But I don't take the invitation. Not yet. I kiss her slowly, thoroughly, savoring the softness of her mouth and the satisfied little sounds she makes as my lips skim hers.

Finally, I pull back. The last of the coldness is gone. "Yeah? Well, I have plans for you now." Alex spares a glance towards the takeout boxes, but I slide one of my hands up along her stomach, between her breasts, only stopping to grip her chin and refocus her gaze on me. "That can wait. I can't."

She melts into me, tilting her face for another kiss as my lips close over hers again. This time, she is the one to drag me forward, walking us both towards the kitchen island. The small part of my brain that isn't consumed by Alex is impressed that she can walk backwards so quickly in heels. But she's so warm and eager in my arms, letting me slide a thigh between hers, making soft, encouraging noises against my mouth. I bite her lower lip, tugging it between my teeth as I pin her.

Her lips pull an inch away, just far enough to murmur my name. "Liv…"

My other hand, the one that isn't tangled in her hair, leaves her hip. I tug her jacket down over her shoulders, leaving the sleeves bunched just above her elbows, trapping her arms behind her. The new position pushes her breasts out, forcing the buttons of her blouse to pull a little tighter. My eyes flick up, to the throbbing point just above the dip in her collarbone, and I unloop the first two, revealing a hint of white lace. Her chest shudders as she takes in an unsteady breath.

I'm torn between taking what I want, and giving her what she wants. If Alex has her way now, she won't want to stop until dinner is cold and we've collapsed in bed together, too exhausted to even shower until tomorrow morning. But even though I want her - God, do I want her - I haven't eaten anything since this morning, and I'm starving. A quick one will have to tide her over.

I pull the collar of her blouse to one side, trailing a string of hot kisses up from the edge of the fabric to the sensitive place just beneath her jaw. She whimpers and lifts her chin to give me more room, but I stay where I am, grazing with just a hint of teeth. Her hips surge forward, pushing against my thigh, but her skirt is still in the way. I reach down, sliding both of my hands just under the hem, and tug it up. She says my name again, louder this time, and something in me sparks. I'm relieved that her stockings stop at mid-thigh, and I don't even bother pulling down her underwear. I just push aside the scrap of lace covering her, groaning a little against her throat when warmth meets my fingers.

She hooks one of her knees around me, the heel of her shoe digging into the back of my thigh, and one of her hands slides into the back pocket of my jeans. Alex doesn't want me to tease her. She wants me inside, as deep and hard as possible. I slide my hand a little lower, stretching her with one finger, then two when I'm sure she's ready. Tight, clinging velvet grips me all the way to the knuckle, and her pulse spikes against my lips.

"Liv, please - fuck!" I cut off her begging by thrusting up, even though I'm already buried as deep as I can go. I find the hard point of her clit, circling until I feel it pulse under the pad of my thumb.

"God, you're so tight," I growl, right beside her ear. It sends a shiver through her whole body, and she rocks forward onto my hand, covering it with more wetness. More heat. More of her. "And you're already so close to coming."

She is close, desperately close, and her heartbeat is getting faster and faster. She's pressed so tight against me that even with clothes between us, I'm having trouble remembering where our bodies end. I drag my fingers out just to hear the perfect sob that breaks in her throat, catching against the swollen, ridged place inside of her. She nearly screams when I pump back into her again. "Yes," she hisses, tilting her head back. Her hand stays in my back pocket, giving her leverage as she tries to ride my fingers, but I won't let her. I hold still until she stops, then keep going once she's learned her lesson.

I can feel the exact moment when she surrenders. To me, to the rhythm and force I've chosen. And then she breaks, letting her head fall back and bracing herself against the edge of the island with her free hand, french nails scrabbling to find a hold somewhere. She can't speak anymore, and I know I'm fucking the words out of her, but I can read her mind. She wonders why she even bothered fighting my tempo in the first place.

"That's it, sweetheart. I want to feel you come around my fingers. In my hand." It's a little tamer than the dirty talk she usually likes, words that are sometimes hard for me to force out. But it's enough. She jerks, freezes, and comes, pulling tight around my fingers and screaming her pleasure to the ceiling and the apartment above. My hand is covered in her wetness, and it's easy to keep taking her through every twitch, every pull of muscle, every shudder.

Moments later, it's over, and she's slumped against my chest, panting into my shoulder and shivering with aftershocks every few seconds. I wait a while before I pull my fingers out, and I feel a sense of loss when I do. She lets out a sigh, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she brings my hand up to her face and wraps her lips around my fingers, sliding her tongue between them.

Over the past ten months, I've gotten used to Alex's habits. The way she always cleans my fingers after I fuck her, if she gets the chance. The way she shivers when I bite her hard enough to leave a mark on her fair skin. The way she runs her fingers through my hair, redirecting me to kiss back up along her stomach when I try to take her in my mouth more often than not, and opens the bedside drawer for one of our toys instead. When I asked why, she said I should use my handcuffs if I wanted to go down on her. At first, I thought she was joking. Then, I realized it made her come faster.

"That was amazing," she says after I pull my fingers out with a soft pop. "You're amazing." Her hair brushes my cheek, and I inhale the floral scent of her shampoo. Apple blossoms. "God, I would be on my knees, sucking you off right now if I didn't know you would stop me."

"Rain check," I whisper as she lowers her foot back to the floor, a little unsteady on her heels after her orgasm.

"With or without your cock?"

That had been another surprise. Not the fact that Alex wanted me to use one, but how often she asked for it. The first time she had wrapped her fist around the base and slid her perfectly glossed lips over the head, grinding the seat against my clit as she took me into her mouth… I came in seconds. I hadn't even realized I could orgasm that way.

Even though she's not what I'm used to, we're good together. Really good. Some of the best sex I've ever had in my life. She says it's the same for her, and I believe it. But sometimes, when I'm on top of her, pumping into her and filling her as much as I can, she closes her eyes, almost like she's shutting herself away in her own head for a few seconds because it's too much.

It's one of the times when I don't know what she's thinking.

When she realizes I haven't answered her, she pulls her skirt back down and shakes her head at me, giving me a slight push towards the sink. "Wash your hands," she murmurs, dropping one last kiss on my cheek. "I'll get dinner and open some wine."

I raise my eyebrows. "Wine?" I can't resist asking. "With Thai?"

She shrugs. "Why not wine with Thai?"

I don't have a good reason, and honestly, a glass sounds good. But never more than a glass. A few unpleasant benders during college and years of growing up with an alcoholic parent were enough to tell me that if I developed a serious relationship with booze, the resulting break-up would be nasty.

While she plates the food, I wash my hands in the sink, enjoying the smell of citrus, but wishing it didn't have to replace her. I wipe my hands dry on my jeans and turn around just in time to see her toss the empty boxes in the garbage can. She reaches up to open the liquor cabinet, and suddenly, I remember something. "Hey, did I leave my jacket here? The last time I saw it was this morning…"

Alex thinks about it for a moment. Then, her face brightens. "Check the back of the sofa," she says. "Do you want to eat out there, or in here?"

"Either." I give her another smile and head back for the living room, trying to remember if I saw the jacket when I came in or not. It's my favorite, but I think Alex likes it even more than I do. Probably because it's leather. On special occasions, I indulge her by wearing the jacket and nothing else.

My jacket is right where she said it would be, draped over the back of the couch. I pick it up and tie the sleeves around my waist, knowing I'll forget it otherwise. Then, I happen to glance down at the cushions. They're all covered in papers, although there's a small nest at the far edge of the couch. Just looking, I can picture Alex curled up there, legs tucked neatly beneath her as she skims through a file.

Then, I frown. Something is niggling at me. Call it detective's instincts.

Her docket is mostly clear right now after her last two convictions. Elliot and I have a few cases pending, but nothing immediate. The past week has been quiet for the entire squad. Why bring so much work home? Why invite me for dinner if she knew she was going to be swamped?

I circle around the couch and pick up the nearest file. Not to snoop, I tell myself. Just because I'm curious. I frown when I see the name Joe Poletti scribbled onto the outside. "But he was convicted two days ago," I say, talking to myself under my breath. Pam Tilden's dog earring had sealed the case, even though the divers hadn't found her head. What did Alex need with his file?

I open it, and regret the decision after only a few sentences. Poletti's disgusting stories. A couple lines are highlighted. Unfortunately, I've picked the one where the rapist shocks his victim to death after torturing her. Hearing Alex read the first page in court was bad enough. "I can't believe he was actually stupid enough to send these to convicted felons," I mutter, slightly comforted by the fact that he's one now, too. Plenty of time to write in prison, but no victims to take out his sadistic behavior on, either. I hope he rots there.

I close the file and set it on the coffee table, wondering what the hell Alex is doing with it. The trial is over. Petrovsky locked him away for the maximum sentence allowed. Then, another paper catches my eye. I pick this one up, too. More lines are highlighted, but as I skim over the first few paragraphs, I notice differences. This one actually uses commas, for one. And as I read, I begin to realize that it's about two women. I frown, trying to remember if any of the stories I had viewed during the investigation matched this one, but I already know Poletti isn't the author. Even without taking the grammar into account, this doesn't seem like him.

For a split second, I consider calling out to Alex. Asking her what on earth she's been working on. But instead, I read a line of dialogue. The word 'whore' is highlighted in yellow. Next to it, '17 - degradation' is scrawled in red pen. Alex's handwriting. It takes me a while to realize that she's actually counting words, making lists. Curious, I flip to the back of the story. She has an entire chart written out. Words, phrases, actions, all with numbers below them in a grid.

I set the story down, blinking to try and push back the fog that is slowly creeping into my head. Even my movements feel thick and clumsy as I open the file again, flipping to the back of Poletti's story. There's a chart scribbled on it, too, in pencil this time, with several eraser marks. Some of the words are the same. Others are different. My hands shake, and I almost drop the file again, unsure what I'm looking at, but convinced it isn't good.

That's when I hear her voice behind me. "Olivia? What are you doing?" It is not friendly or loving this time. It is sharp. Accusatory. Panicked.

I jump, drop the file, stumble back. Normally, I always hear her coming, but this time… I swallow. She's standing behind me, holding perfectly still with a bowl in each hand. A fork for her, chopsticks for me. "Alex. What is… this?" I gesture at the papers, unwilling to touch them again for some reason.

Alex does not answer at first. Instead, she looks at me for a long moment, studying my face with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. But I stare back at her, unwilling to be intimidated into taking back the question. I'm not sure why, but I need to know.

Finally, a flicker of softness returns to her blue eyes. At the same time, the lines in her face pull tighter, and she sighs. "Those are some of Joe Poletti's stories. Not exactly pleasant before-dinner reading material. Put them away."

But I don't put them away. There's more she isn't telling me. Alex Cabot is an excellent liar, but the almost frightened way she said my name when she came up behind me has already given her away. "All of them?" I ask, already knowing what she's going to say.

She sighs again, setting the bowls on a clear part of the coffee table before slumping onto the couch. This time, she does not meet my eyes. "No. Not all of them. Some belong to me."


	2. Chapter 2

“Why?” I say before I can stop myself, although it’s not the question I meant to ask. There are so many others racing through my mind, jostling for space, shouting in my brain before they’re swallowed by a slow, creeping fog of dread. But my throat is stopped up, and I can’t force anything out except for that one, stupid word. Why?

“Why?” Alex folds her legs beneath her skirt, causing the hem to ride up along a sleek thigh, but I barely notice. Somehow, I’m numb to her. She stares at me over the tops of her glasses, and I can see the tiredness in her eyes as she reaches up to adjust the frames. “I don’t know the answer to that, Olivia. I just like them.” She pauses. “I wish I didn’t.”

“And the graphs?” I ask. “All those charts?”

Alex pulls her lower lip between her teeth, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. It is not like her at all. Finally, she sighs. “A little literary analysis. I wanted to prove to myself that Poletti and I were different. That the fantasies in our heads were different.”

“And?” 

“And they were different,” Alex says. She hesitates again. “But not different enough to make me feel better.”

“Different how?” Part of me feels bad for pushing her, but not bad enough to stop. There is a feverish sort of heat inside of me, a confused sear of worry and pain and betrayal that is slowly burning me from the inside out.

“I can’t get aroused if there are men involved,” she says. “Or when someone gets killed or mutilated. I really did almost throw up when I had to read Poletti’s stories in court.” 

I am not sure why, but this only makes me angrier. I don’t want to know any more details, but it’s obvious that Alex has thought this through. She probably analyzed it in her own brain long before she ever analyzed it on paper. And she didn’t tell me. Not once. She kept it a secret.

But maybe I should have known. There were signs. Have I been deliberately blocking them out? Ignoring them? Suddenly, I remember all the times I’ve gone down on her, and pieces click together. The way she asks for my fingers right at the start, then loses herself in her own head instead of looking at me. I’ve gazed up along the beautiful, flat expanse of her stomach so many times, watching her breasts rise and fall, waiting for her eyes to open. But they hardly ever do. When we first started dating, she could barely come that way at all, but she humored me. I thought she had eventually learned to enjoy it. I thought that maybe she had just been self-conscious. She was the only woman I had ever been with who could take or leave oral sex.

I often wondered what she was thinking in those moments. Now, I know.

“Is everything we’ve done some kind of lie?” I blurt out. I regret the words the second after I say them, but I’m too angry to hold them back. She should have told me. This isn’t the kind of secret you keep from someone you love. Someone you trust. Someone you whisper to at midnight. “You just… what, pretended I was raping you every time we made love?” Suddenly, my anger devolves into fear. Maybe something about me made it easy for her to pretend. She knows about my past. Knows who my biological father was and what he did. Maybe -

“Of course not.” Alex recoils, obviously hurt, and presses herself against the arm of the couch. I can tell she desperately wants to look away, to break our eye contact again. But she won’t let herself. “Of course not,” she repeats. A little softer, a little sadder. She stares at me with wide, open eyes, and they are swimming with tears, willing me to believe her. “I love making love with you.” When I don’t respond, she stands up, taking my hands. I let her, but my fingers stay limp, refusing to curl around hers. “Olivia, please…”

“Did I do something to make you this way?” I ask, not sure whether to be angry at her or afraid of myself. “Did I…” I can’t finish. My focus is being torn in two directions, and I feel like I’m being torn along with it. 

Alex shakes her head and lets my hands fall. “No. I’ve had these thoughts since I was twelve.”

That shocks me into silence for several moments. Twelve? Twelve years old? I knew what rape was when I was twelve, but only because my mother let it slip years earlier. I knew it was terrible and shameful, and that it was where I had come from. And that it was the reason my mother drank. At least, I knew that it was why she drank on my good days. On my bad days, I was convinced that she drank because of me. 

“When I was growing up, normal twelve year olds cared about which stickers their friends put on their trapper keepers, Alex,” I say, my voice hinging on desperate.

“I wasn’t a normal twelve year old,” Alex says. “And neither were you.” The rest of the sentence is implied: and neither are the countless young victims we try to help every day. I want to believe children that age are innocent, but so many aren’t, whether because they’ve been abused, or because puberty hit early and with a vengeance. Thanks to my mother, I had certainly lost my innocence by then.

“You should have told me,” I insist. “This is important, Alex-”

“And when was I supposed to tell you, Olivia? After you’ve interviewed a ten year old girl who was raped by her stepfather? Before Warner calls you in to look at another dead victim so you can match it to the serial rapist you’ve been tracking? Or on one of the nights when you cry for what happened to your mother?”

“That isn’t fair,” I snap, pulling away from her as quickly as I can. “I would have listened.” But, deep down, I wonder if that’s really true. I want to believe that I would have listened. That I would have tried to understand. But after a hard day like the ones Alex described, I’m not sure. And right now, I just feel sick.

“I know you would have listened,” Alex whispers. She continues carefully, hesitantly, and I realize that she’s ashamed. I have seen Alex Cabot angry, disappointed, and even devastated, but I have never seen her ashamed before. “But I love you too much to ask.”

To ask? Ask what? Ask me to listen, or ask me to rape her? I’m not sure I want to know. 

I begin to circle the coffee table, unwilling to sit down on the couch near Alex and unable to hold still. There is a pounding, insistent throb at the front of my head, thudding harder and harder even when I bring my hand up to put pressure on my forehead and temples. “You work the same job that I do. You see what the victims go through. And you still want to be raped?”

“Of course I don’t want to be raped.” I’m almost relieved to hear an edge of annoyance return to Alex’s voice. It’s an improvement on the apologetic whispering. “I have fantasies about it, but those are completely different. In a fantasy, I have complete control. And I didn’t tell you about them because you didn’t need to know.”

That makes me whirl back on her before I can turn the corner of the table again. “I didn’t need to know?” I bite out, curling my fingers into fists. They shake with tension as I hold them at my sides. “Alex, I had every right to know!”

“Why?” She narrows her eyes at me, lips pressed together. “Do you bring all of your porn to me for approval before you get yourself off? Do you tell me every single thing that goes on in your head?”

“That isn’t the same, Alex.”

“It’s exactly the same. This was a fantasy I had no intention of ever asking you to realize with me, and I knew that telling you would cause a lot of pain for both of us. I didn’t want to hurt you, so I kept it to myself.”

My shoulders slump. My hands unclench. My breathing slows down. I want to deny it, but I can see the truth written on Alex’s face. She had kept her fantasies a secret to avoid hurting me, not to protect herself. I’m not sure whether that makes me feel better or worse, but the pain in my chest makes me wonder if my heart is about to crack in half.

“I wish you’d told me,” I tell her, even though I’m not sure if it’s the truth. Part of me already wishes that I didn’t know.

“No - no, you wish I wasn’t like this.” Finally, Alex tears her eyes away from mine and stares down into her lap instead, where her hands are folded carefully over her thighs. “It’s all right,” she says. “Most of the time, I wish I wasn’t like this, too.”

My anger twists into guilt instead. She’s right, I realize. I do wish she wasn’t like this. However much I hate knowing that she fantasizes about something as horrible as rape, however much I hate the secret-keeping and the deception, however much I resent her for springing this on me even though I asked… she has to hate it even more. 

As the first wave of hurt begins to fade, other feelings rise to the surface. I love Alex. I want to comfort her. I lower myself onto the couch beside her, and when she doesn’t look up right away, I reach out and put one of my hands over hers. 

“You really weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

Alex shoves her glasses further up on her nose again before she raises her chin, but I catch her swiping her fingers beneath them, probably brushing away a few stray teardrops. When she looks up at me, though, I can’t tell that she has been crying. “No. I wasn’t. You’re the kindest, gentlest, most honorable person I’ve ever met, Olivia Benson. I couldn’t ask you to be something you’re not, even if it’s only pretend.”

I take Alex’s hand, letting her fingers lace with mine, letting our palms press together. Even after all this, it feels incredibly right just to hold her hand. “So, where do we go from here?” I ask, my voice breaking a little with uncertainty. I’m calm for the moment, but I can still feel hurt coiling in my chest, threatening to tighten its hold and choke me again. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t want you to do anything,” Alex says. “I just want things to stay the way they are.” She swallows, breathes slowly, leans a little closer. “I want you to stay.”

“I never said anything about leaving,” I say, stroking my thumb over the soft blue vein that runs across the back of her pale hand. But for one, guilty second, when Alex confessed that the other stories were hers, I had thought about it. Thought about running from the apartment, and going… where, exactly? Not back to my place, where the loneliness would creep in and leave me nothing to think about but Alex. And not to Elliot’s, where I might be walking in on a family dinner. Back to the bull pen at One Hogan Place, maybe.

But I haven’t left. I am still here. That, at least, is one thing I have done right tonight.

Alex’s relief is visible. The line of her shoulders drops, and she sighs as she tucks her cheek against my shoulder. I wrap an arm around her. “Olivia,” she mumbles into the sleeve of my sweater, nuzzling closer to my neck, “let’s just forget about this. You know now, but nothing has to change.”

“Okay,” I whisper, grazing my lips against her silky hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “Okay. Nothing has to change.”

But even as I say it, I know it is a lie. Things have already changed, and there’s no taking it back.


	3. Chapter 3

She is arching, writhing above me, hands fisting into the sheets. Her hips quiver, torn between holding perfectly still and seeking the warmth of my mouth. I fold my lips around the hard bud of her clit, pulling at it, lashing it with my tongue. But at the same time, my gaze drifts up along her body, past her twitching stomach and the hard pink tips of her breasts to study her face. Her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose, and her hair is tossed over the pillows, but she barely moves. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream, but her eyes stay shut.

I drag my tongue lower, to the pulsing ring of muscle at her entrance, and slide it forward to taste her. Alex's flavor is always wonderful, the perfect mix of salt and sweetness, just bold enough to stay in my mouth until I swallow once or twice. But this time even though I have been trying to get her off for a while, there isn't a rush of wetness to greet me. Normally, she coats my fingers until the flood slips down past my wrist, or covers my thighs and lower belly if I'm wearing my cock. Sometimes, she even ruins the sheets.

I ease off the pressure and back away. She whimpers as I press a few more soft kisses to the tip of her exposed clit, trembling a little, but does not beg me for more or try to follow my mouth. She is frozen, lost in her own head, or perhaps caught by indecision.

It has been one week since I discovered the story. One week since she confessed her fantasies to me. One week spent playing pretend, trying to make believe that everything is still normal between us. But it's not, and I don't think it ever will be again.

I glance at the clock. Thirty two minutes have passed since I first kissed up along Alex's thigh, since I draped her other knee over my shoulder and tried to lose myself between her legs. For a moment, I consider stopping. Either Alex is fighting not to fantasize, or she has been this whole time and feels too guilty about it to come. Then again, getting her to come this way has never been easy. Before, I thought of it as a special sort of challenge. Now, it just makes me feel depressed.

"Alex?" I say, hoping that the sound of her name will bring her back from wherever she is. The muscles in her lower abdomen twitch. Her head shifts a little. She spreads her legs wider, revealing pink, glistening, vulnerable lips. I am not sure she even hears me, or if she does, she isn't sure how to respond.

I start to lower my head again, brushing my fingertips along her knee to let her know I'm still there, but one of her hands shoots down and grips my hair. She is gentle, but she is clearly telling me not to continue. "Liv," she breathes, her voice shuddering even worse than her chest as she breathes. "Liv… I - I don't think I can…" She finally opens her eyes, and there are tears shimmering in them behind the lenses of her glasses.

I realize what she means immediately. For a moment, I am disappointed, but her pain and frustration is so obvious that I know I can't show any of my own feelings. It would be too much for her right now. Instead, I slide back up the mattress to lie beside her, looping one arm around her waist and pulling her tight against me.

She flips onto her side, snuggling into a spooning position, and when her body curls into mine, I can feel her start to sob. I stroke soothing lines up and down her arm, trying to focus on making her feel better without words. It is easier to deal with her feelings right now than my own. They are still a confused, painful mess, and I cannot even begin to sort through them. "It's okay," I murmur, kissing just behind her ear. The soft place she loves. "It's okay. You don't have to come every time…"

"It hurts," she whimpers, burying her face in the pillow. A few strands of her hair get caught in my mouth, and I brush them aside as unobtrusively as possible. "Liv…"

"I know it does," I say. It doesn't happen often, especially not anymore, but Alex absolutely hates it when she can't come. It drives her insane. She says there is an aching, unpleasant fullness between her legs afterward that she can never get rid of, and trying harder to get off only makes it worse. My stomach sinks. Now, I am starting to understand why. She has not confirmed it, but I already know.

Those are the moments when she needs her fantasy. When she needs to be 'raped'.

I want to pull away, to roll off the mattress and run for the bathroom, to close myself off while I struggle to regain at least some control of my thoughts. But Alex is still shaking in my arms. I can't pull away and leave her alone now. "It's okay," I say again, not sure what other words of comfort to offer her. I keep stroking her arm, and then reach up to play with the soft strands of her hair. She is so beautiful that it hurts to look at her sometimes.

I wonder why someone so beautiful, inside and out, can be aroused by something so ugly.

Alex sighs, then shifts on the mattress, making it groan a little and wrinkling the covers beneath us even further as she turns to face me. I let my hand cup the side of her cheek. So far, she has not let the tears in her eyes fall yet. "No, Liv," she whispers, blinking slowly at me behind the frames of her glasses. "It's not okay. I should have been able to. I don't know why I…"

"Don't lie," I tell her, running my thumb over the soft swell of her cheekbone. "Not to me, Alex."

Alex's lips press together, and her pulse jumps at the side of her throat. She stares at me for a long moment. "I hope you don't think this is about you," she says. "I hope you don't think this is because you're doing something wrong, or not doing enough." Her eyes flicker away. "Sometimes, I'm just… broken. My mind goes places I wish it wouldn't, and then when I try to fight it, my body won't do what I want it to do."

A question tugs at me, one I can't stop myself from asking. It has been growing in the back of my mind all week, festering there like some kind of wound that won't heal. "Alex-" I have to stop and swallow before I can continue. "When your mind goes there..." I can't bring myself to be any more specific. "What are you thinking about?"

A line appears in the middle of Alex's forehead, and she narrows her eyes at me. "I don't think we should talk about that right now, Olivia."

She's right. I don't want to know. I'm not ready to hear the details yet. Maybe I'll never be ready. But there is one thing I need to know, or I think I'll go insane. "Okay. But… who are you thinking about?"

This time, her eyes widen. I watch a flash of panic cross her face, but now that I've asked the question, there's no taking it back.

"Liv," she says, the pitch of her voice rising, almost pleading with me. "Don't make me answer that. Please." But I keep staring at her, pressing her without words. I have to hear her say it, even though I think I already know the answer. Finally, she breaks. "Sometimes, the person isn't real," she says. "She's just some shadowy figure, not fully formed in my head."

"But sometimes?"

She lowers her eyes guiltily. "Sometimes, I think about you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

No. It's not what I wanted to hear, but it is what I expected. However, listening to her admit it isn't the crushing blow I thought it would be. Instead, I just feel a slow, sinking pit open up at the bottom of my stomach. "Why?" I ask. "Why do you think about me?" The second half of the question remains unspoken. Is it because of my father? Because something about me reminds her of how a rapist should act?

Then, Alex surprises me. "Would you believe it's because I love you?"

"Because you love me?" I say, feeling the words out. They don't make sense to me.

"I work with you, Olivia. I know how awful rape is. How damaging it can be. If I want to explore such a dangerous fantasy, even if it's only in my own head, it… it feels safer to think about someone I trust. Someone I know would never hurt me that way."

At first, I can't respond. She has taken what I was afraid of and completely turned it around. My first reaction is denial. She can't be telling the truth. Something dangerous and violent about me must have attracted her. It's in my blood, after all. She just doesn't want to hurt me.

But then I breathe slowly and think about it some more. I look into Alex's eyes, and I don't see a lie there. "Liv," she says, and this time, she is the one to reach out and cup my cheek. "I had these fantasies for years before I met you. I have no idea why, and I'll probably never know. They have nothing to do with you, and they weren't something you caused."

"I know," I say. "I just…"

"Olivia, I'm not attracted to you because I think you're going to rape me. Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Not just to me, but to yourself?" She's right. I know she's right. But still, part of me has trouble believing it. Alex runs her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp. As tense as I am, the familiar, intimate gesture starts to calm me down. "I'm attracted to you because you're kind. Because you're gentle. Because I know I can trust you." She pauses and fluffs my hair a little with her hand. "The butch haircut you've got right now and the tight abdominal muscles don't hurt, either."

I can't help it. I let out a short laugh. I have absolutely no idea how she's gone from needing my comfort to comforting me, but Alex has always been strong. Stronger than I am right now. Maybe talking through this with me has helped her feel a little less guilty. I hope so.

My eyes drift over towards the clock behind her head, and I see that it's a little past midnight. Both of us have to be at work early tomorrow. Not together, of course. Elliot knows about us, and Cragen probably suspects, but the two of us have to stay closeted because of our jobs. It's inconvenient, but we both love our careers too much to change things right now. Besides, Alex is a vast improvement over the revolving door of ADAs we had before. Only Carmichael bothered to stick around until she came along.

"Thanks, Alex," I say as I turn over, hoping she'll take the invitation and cuddle up against my back. She does, tucking her thighs beneath the curve of my backside, and we fall into a comfortable spooning position, completely opposite of the way we were before. Despite Alex's crack about my haircut, I still like to be the little spoon sometimes.

Alex kisses the back of my neck, and a warm, comfortable feeling starts to seep through me, making my arms and legs feel heavy. My day hasn't been too active, mostly paperwork, but I'm emotionally exhausted. "I love you, Olivia," she whispers against my skin, nuzzling into the back of my shoulder for a moment.

"I love you, too," I whisper back. And for right now, at least, I believe that love will be enough to make things between us good again.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Alex doesn’t look at me. She is unnaturally quiet as she makes her coffee, standing beside the brewer and facing the counter instead of sitting at the table to wait. I watch her, staring at her back so intently that I almost forget the bagel sitting in front of me. Snippets of last night’s conversation play in my head. She told me she trusted me. But if she trusts me, why is she pulling away from me now?

I want to stand up, want to reach out to her and pull her into my arms so I can comfort her, but I’m not sure whether my touch will be welcome. This is a part of Alex I have never dealt with before. She usually confronts problems head-on, whether they’re mine or hers. She doesn’t withdraw into herself. She doesn’t hide.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I push back my chair, leaving my bagel on the table. I stand still for a moment, staring at the sheets of blonde hair running down between her shoulders, waiting for her to turn toward me. But she doesn’t. She continues watching her coffee, and when I step closer, I only catch a glimpse of her profile. Her lips are pressed together, and even from a yard away, I can see that her eyes are glistening. 

Her expression is hauntingly familiar. I’ve seen it on the faces of almost all the victims I’ve worked with. I’ve seen it reflected back at me in the mirror. I can read the guilt in her eyes, the lines around her mouth. I can already tell from her body language that she’ll bristle if I stroke her back, pull away if I try to kiss away the crease in the middle of her forehead. Gentleness will make her retreat further into herself. But maybe something that isn’t quite so gentle will pull her back out of her own head.

I turn and leave the kitchen, heading down the hallway into the bedroom. I’m not sure whether my plan will work, since I’ve never seen Alex completely despondent before, but I have to try something. I glance at the clock as soon as I step through the door. Only 7:35. Neither of us slept well after our conversation last night, but I have the day off, and she doesn’t have to be at her office until nine. She likes to get there at least an hour early, but this morning, she’ll just have to settle for being on-time.

Once I shut the door behind me, I open the nightstand drawer on my side of the bed. What I’m looking for is right on top: the double-sided cock I usually wear. We have other ones, other colors and shapes, but this is her favorite. I was a little thrown by the realism at first, but I can’t deny that it’s become my favorite, too, and not just because it fits inside me when I wear it. I like that it matches my skin and looks a little like a part of my body. I enjoy being a woman, and would never want to change that, but seeing and feeling the way Alex reacts to me when I wear it… I can’t help but respond.

I set the cock on top of the nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube next, squirting a few drops into the palm of my hand. It’s cold against my skin, so I smear it over the shorter end of the toy as quickly as I can, hoping my hand will warm it up. Then, I pull my boxers down to mid-thigh and sit on the edge of the bed. It doesn’t take long for me to fit the cock inside myself. A few strokes, a few pushes, and my inner muscles part to take the shorter end. Once it’s resting against my clit, I pull my boxers back up and tuck the shaft through the fly. I can use this kind of cock without a harness sometimes, but I usually prefer to wear boxers or something else with it, just to make sure it stays in place.

It’s a little uncomfortable to walk with the cock inside me, but I make it back out of the bedroom and down the hall without too much trouble. Alex is sitting at the table, staring down at two buttered pieces of toast on a plate. She’s only taken a few bites, and doesn’t look like she’s going to finish them. She turns around in her chair to look at me as I step up behind her. Immediately, her eyes focus between my legs, widening slightly when she notices the bulge there. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, looking conflicted.

I can tell she’s going to protest, not because she doesn’t want me to fuck her, but because she thinks I don’t want to. I see the flash of hope, the dark swell of need in her eyes before she hurries to try and conceal her desire. We’ve been together long enough for me to know how her mind works, how her body responds. Before she can say no for my sake, I grip her arm, pulling her out of her chair. I am not painfully rough with her, but I am not gentle, either. I pull her backwards against me until her ass is flush against my pelvis, and I know she can feel the shaft of the cock pressing against her.

“I know you didn’t get what you needed last night.” I lower my lips to whisper beside her ear. Strands of her hair tickle my cheek. “So now, I’m going to bend you over this table and fuck you until you scream and come all over me.” She shudders in my arms and a small whimper breaks in her throat. I know I have her. But before I fulfill my promise, I whisper one more thing. An idea I had been toying with, but wasn’t sure I had the courage to say out loud. “I’m not going to say a word, but…” I have to swallow to make sure my own voice doesn’t break. Secretly, I’m terrified. “But you can imagine anything you want.”

“Liv, you don’t have to-” But I don’t let her finish. I push her down over the table, only going slow enough to make sure she doesn’t land face-first in her coffee. Then, I pull up her skirt. It’s tight, so it takes a while for me to force it out of the way. She might resent me a little for wrinkling it later, but I’m too impatient to take it off. Once I’ve hitched it up around her hips, I rake my nails along the backs of her thighs, grateful she is wearing stockings instead of hose so I have some bare skin to work with.

She hisses and rocks her hips back. I can see how swollen she is even through her panties, can make out the shape of her outer lips and the point of her clit beneath the fabric. I stroke her through them for a moment, unable to resist. She lets out a low sigh as I flick over the hard little bud, and I see the fabric get slightly darker. I’m tempted to play with her for a little while, but I don’t want to make her wait. Not this time. I want to fuck whatever demons she has out of her. I want to prove that I can give her what she needs.

I hook my fingers through the thin waistband and pull down until she is completely exposed. The hint of wetness I felt before is actually a flood, and I run my fingers through it. I push inside of her without testing first, and even more heat spills into my hand. Either she’s still worked up from last night, or whispering in her ear and bending her over the table has her more excited than I hoped. I give her a few thrusts, hooking against her front wall until I feel her swell and tighten around me. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t say my name, maybe because I told her I wasn’t going to talk, either. I’m not sure whether I miss the sound of her voice or am grateful for the silence.

Once she’s so swollen that I can feel her pulsing around me, I pull my fingers out. She lets out a soft whine of protest, trying to push back and find me, but I don’t let her. I reach between our bodies instead, untucking myself from my boxers. I give the shaft of my cock a testing stroke to make sure it’s lined up right, coating it with her wetness. I don’t think she’s going to have any problem taking me, but I don’t want to tear her.

“Liv,” she whispers, finally saying something. “Liv, please…” For a moment, my heart stops. She’s thinking about me. I gave her permission to fantasize about whatever she wanted, and she’s still thinking about me. Part of me is elated, and part of me is terrified. I have to swallow several times and get my breathing under control before I can do anything.

I don’t respond with words. Instead, I run my left hand down the sleek line of her thigh, urging her to spread herself wider. My right hand stays wrapped around the base of my cock. I drag the blunt head up and down through her folds a few times, making sure to nudge against her clit before I finally line up with her entrance. Normally, this is the part where she rocks back, trying to take me inside. But this time, she holds perfectly still. She doesn’t move, waiting for me to take her instead. I force down my fears and doubts. Alex loves me. Alex trusts me. Right now, nothing else matters.

I push my hips forward, looking down as I guide my cock inside of her. She looks so beautiful. Every inch of her. The sweet dimples at the base of her spine, the perfect swell of her ass, the way her glistening pink lips swell and flare open to take me. The widest part of the head catches for a moment, splitting her apart, and she sobs at the stretch. I bring my fingers down to her clit, pushing back the tender hood and grinding the hard tip beneath the pad of my thumb. All of her muscles pull tight, then relax as a pulse of wetness spills out of her. Another inch of me slips inside of her, and soon, I’m pumping all the way into her, pulling her hips back to meet mine.

It’s rougher than I planned. I can hear a slapping sound each time I thrust into her. She grips the edge of the table, shifting a little beneath me, unsure whether to pull away or push back for more. I can catch a glimpse of her face beneath the tossed strands of her hair. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is open just slightly, taking in ragged sips of air. Her pale skin is flushed, and I can see her pulse jump in her throat. She’s lost in her own head, lost in her fantasy. Part of me is curious and wants to know what she’s thinking about, but part of me resists. I won’t ask her, at least not now. I’ll let her imagine whatever she wants to.

I take her harder, holding onto her hips so I can get the best angle. She likes it when I slam into her front wall, dragging against her so hard that it forces her orgasm out of her. I can tell when I find the right spot because she gasps whenever I hit it, and her fingers flex on the table. She pulls tight around me, and it gets harder to push into her. Each pump of my hips makes the seat of the cock rub into me. My clit twitches, heavy and swollen, and it throbs each time I bury myself inside of her. She’s so tight around me, gripping down on the shaft, trying to keep me deep inside.

Finally, she can’t hold it back anymore. She goes rigid beneath me, and her inner muscles twitch and flutter around my cock. I can feel the little tugs all the way along the shaft. It makes my clit pulse, and I pump my hips faster, trying to take her through the contractions. A wordless scream tears from her throat, and wetness gushes out of her, flooding around me and coating the front of my boxers. I can feel warm heat running between us, but I don’t stop. I can tell that she isn’t finished, that she has more for me. A strange flare of possessiveness wells up inside of me, and I want to take it. To take her.

I keep fucking her, enjoying the little yelps she makes each time my cock slams into her and pushes out more wetness. I grip her hips so hard I’m sure to leave a few bruises, trying to take her as deep as I can, but my own pleasure gets the better of me. My thrusts become shorter and faster, just the right stroke to catch my aching clit. I suddenly realize that I want to come in her. I didn’t expect it, didn’t think I would take any pleasure at all in this while I knew what she was thinking about. I had done it for her sake. But my body has other ideas. 

My stomach muscles tense, and my inner walls pulse. I’m on the edge of coming, so close that I can feel the pressure building inside me, pounding in my clit and making my muscles squeeze down. Alex’s warmth has soaked through my boxers, and even though she’s so wet, so open, she’s still incredibly tight around me. I watch as I glide in and out of her, groaning a little when I see how easily her body takes my cock. She wants me. She wants this. There is nothing wrong with what we’re doing right now.

I give in. Stop trying to fight. My hips surge forward, breaking out of their rhythm as I come inside her. The swollen shaft of my clit swells and throbs, rubbing deliciously over the seat of my cock, and I imagine that I can feel her wrapped around me. And I can feel her. Pulsing, fluttering, bearing down. All tight, heated silk. With the last of my coordination, I bring one of my hands down from her hip and pinch her clit between my fingers, jerking it roughly. She comes a second after I do, falling over the edge in response to me. More wetness from deep inside her rushes out around my cock and floods the front of my ruined boxers. My insides unravel, and I grit my teeth as I ride through both of our pulses, driving into her again and again until I have nothing left in me and her contraction fade to weak twitches.

It isn’t until I’ve left her a whimpering, shuddering mess and pulled out of her that I realize what I’ve done. Alex and I have had sex this way countless times. Not on the kitchen table, but aside from that, the actions are exactly the same as usual. I was a little rough with her, but we’ve gone there before. It’s nothing new. But this time, I know what she was thinking about. I’m afraid to know the details. 

I stare down at her. She stays bent over the table. Her outer lips are swollen open, and her entrance is still stretched from my cock. The point of her clit is slick and hard, a perfect pearl from when I was tugging at it. She’s so soft, so vulnerable to me. And even though I know she wants to be that way, I can’t help but feel guilty. It burns in my stomach, clogs my throat. Torn between arousal and fear - fear of what, I still can’t quite sort out - I stroke the side of her hip, wiping my wet fingers on her skin so she can feel them. I suddenly want to be alone, to pull away from her, but I know she needs me right now. I have to be strong for her.

“Oh God, thank you,” she mumbles against the table. “I needed that so much…” There’s a soft smile on her lips. She looks happy. We’ve completely switched roles. Now, she’s perfectly content, and I feel frightened and conflicted.

I swallow and take another step back, breaking all skin contact with her. “I know you did.” I hurry to tuck my cock back into my ruined boxers. I’ll definitely need a shower before I do anything else, but part of me doesn’t want to take one because Alex will want to join me. I’m not sure whether I want to be close to her or keep my distance. Everything is too confusing. I need time to process what happened. What I did. In the moment, it had felt incredibly right, but now… “I’m going to clean up,” I blurt out. “I’m kind of a mess.” A mess in more ways than one.

Alex sighs and closes her eyes, her cheek still stuck against the top of the table. “Go ahead. I can’t move anyway. I’ll join you in a second after I clean the table.”

I think about offering to help her, especially since she’s messier than I am with trails of wetness running down her thighs. But this time, I can’t. I need to be alone, even if it’s only for a few seconds. I hurry from the kitchen without saying anything else, worried my voice will break. Worried I’ll break. I don’t want her to know how I feel right now. This was my decision, and I’m frightened by how easy it was to make. How easy it was to slip into the role of Alex’s fantasy rapist. I hadn’t done anything differently, said anything differently, treated her any differently, but I was struck with the painful truth that that was what I was now. A rapist. Even if it was only in my lover’s imagination.


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you going to eat it, or just stare at it?”

I glance up from my sad-looking donut on its gooey napkin and shake my head at John Munch. He’s obviously baiting me, and I try to play along, even though my heart isn’t in it. “You wish, pervert. Besides, I’m not a stereotype.”

Munch grins at me, completely unrepentant. “I thought you were the token girl?” he asks, taking a large, messy bite of his bavarian cream. I don’t dignify him with a response. After what happened this morning, I’m not in the mood to banter. Sometimes, I wonder if I am a stereotype. Not the token girl, but the broken one. The one with the tragic past. The one running away from her demons. There’s one of those in every story.

“I thought you were the token girl, Munch,” Fin says from across the room. Munch gives a muffled, unintelligible response around his mouthful of donut. I ignore them both, grateful for the reprieve. Maybe Fin senses my mood and is trying to draw Munch’s attention off me

It’s been a fairly quiet morning so far, mostly paperwork and phone calls. Despite how busy we are, policework involves a lot of waiting. Waiting for the District Attorney’s office, the lab, or any number of other people to do their jobs before we can do ours. Unfortunately, crimes aren’t solved in an hour. I’m not sure whether to be grateful for the slow day, or sad because it means I have more time to think. To remember.

Having sex with Alex this morning was a mistake. A big one. It was too raw, too dangerous, and I discovered something frightening about myself. It’s surprisingly easy to fuck her, even when I know what she’s thinking about. Too easy. The fact that my crisis of conscience didn’t hit me until after I finished… I don’t want to think about what that says about me. Do my desires really control me that much?

I wish I knew why my father raped my mother. There’s never a satisfactory answer to that kind of question, but I want to know anyway. Was he just a sadist? A sociopath? Or was it a slip of control? Neither is excusable, neither erases the evil behind the act of rape, but the second possibility is more frightening to me. I know I’m not a sociopath or a sadist. At least, I don’t think I am. I don’t want to hurt Alex, physically or emotionally. But if he lost control… If I lost control...

I pick up the stale, sticky donut and toss it into the trash can beside my desk. My stomach is churning, and I’m afraid if I put anything in it, I’ll have to run for the bathroom. Munch and Fin are still bickering, and they don’t seem to notice me. I swallow hard and stare down at the file in front of me, praying the nausea will pass. It’s an old file from a few months ago. One I shouldn’t even have out.

Darrell Guan.

I look at his picture, at his face, trying to figure out if I can see any of myself in him. I know better than most that you can’t tell if someone’s evil just by looking at them, but I have to try. Whether he’s evil or not, he’s definitely damaged. I remember sitting in Huang’s office after the trial, glancing back and forth between his face and the window, unable to hold his eyes for long. I was afraid of what he would see in them. In me.

The question I asked that day still haunts me. It frightens me even more now than it did then. Did Darrell Guan have a choice? Does anyone? Did my father? Do I?

Huang told me I was proof that we had a choice, but after this morning, I’m not sure. Maybe there is some kind of crazy violent gene. Maybe I have it. Maybe I’m even more broken than I thought, and it’s only a matter of time before Alex’s fantasies turn into some kind of twisted reality.

Alex. Just thinking her name makes my chest ache. I left her alone this morning. Darted out of the shower as soon as she got in, dodging her kiss and catching her cheek instead while I mumbled something about being called in for an emergency. She knew I was lying, and I’ll have to deal with that later, too. I hope she’s free of her guilt, even if I’m not free of mine, but I know it isn’t likely. She’s hurting, too, maybe even more than me.

I can’t force myself to sit still anymore. I push back my chair and stand up, closing the file and putting it in my desk drawer. Just in case. I tell myself I won’t pull it back out and look again, but I know I’m lying. “Hey, Munch, do you know if Huang’s in today?” I ask before I can stop myself. I don’t want to talk to him, but part of me feels like I have to. I can’t go to some departmental shrink who doesn’t know me about this. I can’t go to Elliot, not after what we’ve been through together. And I definitely can’t go to Alex.

“I think so,” Munch says. I notice a few wadded up napkins on the floor surrounding his desk and wonder exactly what he and Fin were up to while I was lost somewhere in my own head. “Why?”

Fin grunts and gives Munch a disapproving glance. “Doesn’t matter why. You ain’t the one that needs to see him.” This time, I’m sure he knows something’s wrong. He’s trying to give me some cover, and I appreciate it. I give him a small, grateful smile and leave the bull pen before Munch can ask any more probing questions.

I hide out in the bathroom for a few minutes, locking myself in a stall and staring into the toilet just in case I do decide to be sick, but eventually, I wander back out into the hall. Fortunately, there’s no sign of Munch, Fin, or the Captain. Elliot’s off today, like I’m supposed to be, so I know I won’t run into him. I head for Huang’s office, walking briskly so that I can’t change my mind. I won’t tell him everything, but I’ll tell him enough.

He calls for me to come in on the first knock. When I step inside, he greets me with a warm smile from behind his desk. His introduction to the squad was a little rocky, since none of us appreciate other people telling us what to do, but the two of us understand each other now. I respect him, and I know he respects us. Our conversation after Guan’s trial only helped cement that. 

“Olivia? It’s nice to see you.” Huang is polite, but I know what he’s really saying. We aren’t sharing any of the same cases. He wants to know what I’m doing in his office.

“You aren’t busy, are you, George?”

He shakes his head. “Not too busy for you. Take a seat.”

I slump into the chair. I can’t decide whether I’m exhausted or wired. All the confusion, all the guilt has me worn down, but fear keeps lighting up in me, making my heart rate pick up speed. “I’m not sure if you know, but I’ve been seeing someone for a few months now.”

Huang’s eyebrows raise a little. “Someone?”

“A woman,” I confess. He’s probably already guessed, and that’s one detail I can’t leave out of my explanation. At least I can keep Alex’s name a secret. No one knows about our relationship yet, even though it’s one of the longest I’ve managed to sustain. Neither of us want to risk our jobs, and the stakes are too high.

“That doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would bother you, Olivia.” He eyes the leather jacket I’m wearing. “Or something you’re trying very hard to hide.”

“I don’t talk about it or hide it, but that’s not what’s bothering me. The woman I’m seeing…” I have to choke back Alex’s name. “She’s amazing. The best relationship I’ve ever been in. But she…” I don’t know what to say. How am I supposed to explain Alex’s fantasies? How am I supposed to explain my reaction to them? There’s no good way to talk about this kind of thing. “She has sexual fantasies that I don’t know how to handle.”

Understanding dawns on Huang’s face. If he’s surprised I’m talking about my sex life with him, or disturbed by the notion, he doesn’t show it. He leans forward over the desk and rests his elbows on the edge, clasping his hands in front of him. I almost give a panicked laugh. He looks like such a psychologist. “Fantasies about domination and submission? Or fantasies about pain?”

I stare at my lap and mumble, “Both, I guess. Maybe not the pain so much. I don’t know. It’s not easy to talk about it with her. I found out by accident.” Fortunately, Huang doesn’t ask how I found out. I would have had to lie and tell him I stumbled across Alex’s porn instead of mentioning the file. 

“Have you ever been in that type of relationship before?”

Huang’s question confuses me. Why does it matter? “No, I haven’t.”

“I guess the question you need to ask yourself now is if you want to be."

I want to be. Of course I want to be. At least, I want a relationship with Alex. I’m not sure if the kinky sex that comes along with it is something I would seek out again if we broke up. Probably, but I don’t want to think about it. I don’t know what else I want, but I do know that I want her. “I want to be.” My voice drops even lower. “I just don’t know if I should be.”

“Why not? I think you’re the ideal partner for someone with those desires.”

I don’t know what I expected Huang to say, but that isn’t it. “Me?” I repeat, pointing at myself.

Huang nods. “Yes. You know all about soliciting consent. Your previous experiences as a detective make you careful.”

Careful? Was I careful this morning? Looking back, I can’t tell whether I was giving Alex what she needed, or taking what I wanted. Maybe both. It’s all mixed up in my head. Even though it started out as her fantasy, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Part of me is invested in it. Maybe that’s why I’m so afraid of it. “Do you think there’s anything a person can’t consent to?” _Anyone a person shouldn’t give consent to?_ I don’t let myself ask the second question.

“Legally, there are things a person can’t consent to, but everyone draws their own lines. You need to figure out where yours are. Decide what you want to do, and if you can do it safely. Not just safely for her, but safely for you. I think the answers you find might surprise you.”

I almost tell him everything. Almost confess what I’ve done. But even though he probably already knows, I can’t. I’m too confused. Too scared. Too hurt. And underneath all that, part of me is still aroused. I remember the way Alex looked this morning, stripped from the waist down and bent over the table. A shiver runs down the middle of my back.

I stand up and circle the chair. “Thanks, George. I guess I need to think before I do anything else.”

“Good idea. But don’t think too much,” he says before I open the door. “I know you, Olivia Benson. You have a hard time letting certain thoughts go, even when they’re wrong.” That’s when I’m sure he knows exactly what I’m talking about. It’s strange how Huang and I can have a conversation about rape and my father without actually mentioning either one.

“Got it.” I slip back out into the hallway, unsure whether I feel better or worse after talking to Huang. Mostly, I’m just tired. I wish I had actually gotten a chance to drink some of the coffee at Alex’s apartment this morning.

Alex. I have to think of something to say to her when I get home. We don’t spend a lot of nights apart anymore. I’m at her place more often than mine. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been back there for the past week. It’s lonely without her. If it wasn’t for our jobs, I would move in with her. Or, at least, I would have before…

I shake my head. This is just a rough patch. A temporary problem. It’s something we can work through. I’m still not sure what I want or what the solution is, but I won’t leave her. We’re too good together, and I care too much. I don’t know where my line is or whether I can trust myself, but as long as Alex wants me, I’ll be there.


	6. Chapter 6

I’m standing outside of Alex’s apartment door again, but this time, I don’t have the comforting warmth of takeout to ease the chill. I pull the collar of my jacket closed, but it doesn’t help. My hands feel like blocks of ice, and my eyes are stinging. Maybe the cold is in my imagination.

Cragen forced me to go home. As soon as he figured out it was supposed to be my day off, he sent me out of the bullpen by pointing an imperious finger at the door. “Get out of here, Benson,” he said to me. “You know the department can’t pay you this much overtime.” That was Cragen code for, ‘Get some rest, you look like shit.’ And with all the worry and confusion I feel, I probably do look like shit.

I have no idea what I’m going to say to Alex when she gets home. ‘Sorry I pretended to rape you’ just won’t work in this situation. And did I even pretend to rape her? All I did was have sex with her. The rest was all in her head. Logically, I know I didn’t do anything wrong. She consented to everything. Roleplaying isn’t a prosecutable crime, and what we did was far from a real roleplay. But if I didn’t do anything wrong, why do I feel so terrible?

Eventually, I take out my key. Alex gave it to me months ago. I was hesitant to use it at first until she told me how much she enjoyed coming home to dinner on the table. Now, I try to cook when I get home before her, and she does the same, although her culinary skills are pretty basic compared to mine. I sigh. No matter what I end up telling her, a nice dinner won’t hurt.

When I open the door, I’m surprised to find the lights on. I’m confused at first, but then my chest seizes up. I have to force the air in. She’s home early. Alex is almost never home early. On time, occasionally. Late, often. But never early. When she’s sick, she goes to the office with a huge bottle of hand sanitizer, a can of lysol, and a purse full of tissues.

I know I can’t hide in the front room forever. She probably heard the door open. She’ll come looking for me if I can’t find her. Sure enough, I hear her calling to me from the kitchen. “Olivia? Is that you?”

Hearing her voice fold around my name makes me shiver. I’m not sure whether it’s with arousal or fear. Whatever it is, I shove it aside. I can’t be turned on or afraid right now. I have to be calm. We need to try and talk about what we did, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do about it. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I do know I can’t just bury the memory. It keeps pushing to the front of my mind, and I don’t know how to deal with it.

“I’m here,” I call back to her. My voice breaks, and I hope she doesn’t notice. I head back toward the kitchen, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find baked chicken and a nice salad sitting on the table. Not exactly a complicated meal, but for Alex, it’s pretty impressive. She’s already sitting down, and I notice she’s drinking wine out of a plastic cup. Apparently, she was too lazy to get the right glasses.

“You weren’t supposed to see me drinking this,” she confesses when I take the other seat. “I guess I wanted to be relaxed when you got home, but I wanted you to stay sober.”

I narrow my eyes a little. Maybe not lazy at all. Just clever. I would have noticed a wineglass, but not a regular cup. Even though I can sense an alcoholic a mile away, and I know Alex isn’t one, the deception reminds me a little of my mother. It’s the kind of trick I would have expected from her.

“Was there a reason you didn’t want me drinking?” I ask. I have very strict rules about drinking. I never allow myself to have more than one serving of anything. It usually isn’t enough to have an effect on me, but I remember what alcohol did to my mother. It might have damaged her even more than the rape, although I know that’s why she started. Part of the reason I drink at all is because I want to prove to myself that I have enough self-control to do it responsibly. I don’t want to be like her, and I don’t want alcohol to have power over me. If I didn’t drink, I’d always be afraid that one day, I’d start in a moment of despair.

Alex gives me a long look. “Several reasons, but not the ones you’re afraid of. Olivia, I know you. I love you. I practically live with you. Do you really think I’m afraid you’ll go on a bender and hurt me?”

I consider that for a second. No. I don’t think Alex is afraid of me or what I might do. Alex trusts me. I’m just afraid that her trust is misplaced. It’s my problem, not hers. I’m reading into things that aren’t there, projecting my own insecurities on everything she says. I sigh. “You’re right.” I fold my hand around the glass of water beside my plate. “Let’s just eat. Thank you for making dinner, by the way.”

“It was no problem. I worked from home the second half of the day.” That’s another surprise. Alex hardly ever works from home, although she has made more of an effort to be around since our relationship started.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and even though it’s not awkward, it is a little tense. Without conversation, I keep thinking about my meeting with Huang. I don’t mind, though. It’s better than remember what happened this morning. I still feel pressure between my legs whenever I think about it, and that only makes my mental angst worse. I put down my salad fork and sigh. I’m tired of being the broken one. I don’t have to be a trope. At least I can confront my problems.

“Are you okay? You know, after this morning? I probably should have asked you first.”

Alex smiles. I can tell she’s remembering. Apparently, she doesn’t feel as conflicted as I do. “You know you don’t have to ask. It would have ruined the fun. Besides, I have a safe word.” That had been at my insistence. We’ve never done anything more serious than light bondage, but the job makes me cautious. I’ve seen too many mistakes that have turned ugly. In some ways, they’re worse than the clear-cut violent crimes. Those are the cases everyone’s afraid to talk about. They do just as much damage, but sometimes, the perp doesn’t even realize what they’ve done. Alex tells me no a hundred times a day, at work and at home, but I’m still afraid of the one time she won’t say it, or I won’t listen.

When I don’t respond, Alex continues talking. “Are you okay? This seems to be bothering you a lot more than it’s bothering me.”

She’s right. She’s always right. The problem is, I can’t tell if I should be bothered by it or not. My instincts are telling me I didn’t do anything wrong, and that I might even want to try it again. My head is telling me a completely different thing. I’m not sure about my heart. “I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m not sure whether I’m upset because it’s bothering me, or because I think it should be.”

Alex shakes her head at me. “I thought so.” She stands up and circles the table to collect my plate. To my surprise, I realize I’ve finished everything on it. I guess that stale donut from this morning wasn’t enough to hold me over. “You know what, Olivia? You think too much. Let’s just have a nice night in. Then you can take a few days to sort out whether you’re okay with what we did or not. You know I want to be with you either way. This is something I want, but not something I expect from you. As long as you don’t judge me and let me read my porn once in a while, we’ll be fine. It’s a need I can meet myself.”

She drops a kiss on top of my head before she carries the dishes over to the dishwasher. I can’t help it. I stare a little as she bends over, and try not to feel guilty. Her ass is perfect. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that it’s one of the first things I noticed about her. Objectifying, maybe, but I do appreciate the whole package. I’ve never been able to break women down into body parts for more than a few seconds at a time.

While she polishes off the last of her wine and puts the cup in the top rack, I think about what she said. Maybe this decision isn’t as high-stakes as I thought. She knows I won’t judge her or leave her, and I’m pretty sure she won’t leave me over this. I believe her when she says it’s a need she can meet herself. Alex isn’t in the habit of lying, however good she is at turning people around to her way of thinking. So I’ll wait. See how I feel in a week. A month. It doesn’t seem like Alex is going to push this with me. All the pressure I felt to figure things out and make a decision was all in my head.

Alex turns back around, and I stand up to meet her, opening my arms. “Thank you,” I whisper as she slides into them. It’s so comfortable holding her. She’s a perfect fit. I copy her earlier gesture of affection and kiss her forehead, inhaling the sweet smell that always lingers in her hair.

“No. Thank you.” She rests her head against my shoulder for a while, and I sway her back and forth, running my hand up and down the middle of her back. Our breathing starts to match up, and the tightness in my chest fades away.

“So… what do you want to do now? Cragen banished me from work-”

Alex rolls her eyes and pulls a few inches away. “I wouldn’t call it banishment if it was supposed to be your day off, Olivia.”

“Call it whatever you want, but if he says I’m back there before tomorrow afternoon, he’s going to force me to use all those sick days I have piling up.”

“Part of me wishes you would… but I know you won’t. Since I have you for tonight, how about a movie?”

I grin at her. “A movie, or a ‘movie’?”

She grazes her lips across the line of my jaw, and my arms tighten around her. “Well, if you want to skip right to the oral sex, I won’t turn you down.”

My brow furrows. I do want to be with her, but I’m not sure a blowjob is what I need right now while I’m still so confused. “Alex, I don’t think…”

“I meant me, Liv. Since you went above and beyond to meet one of my needs already today, I thought we should do something you like. No fantasies. None of your unnecessary angst. Just your mouth on me.”

I’m touched. I know she’s doing this for me. She almost always prefers my hand or the cock. Having her ask for my mouth is a rare treat, even if it’s partially for my benefit. “Are you sure?” I ask her, but my hands are already sliding down to her waist, searching for the tab of her zipper. I glance over her shoulder toward the bedroom and wonder whether we should even bother going there. The couch is closer.

One of her hands comes up to caress my cheek. Her smile is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen. “Of course. Just because it’s not my first choice doesn’t mean I don’t love it. I’m not going to say no to ice cream, even if it’s strawberry instead of mint chocolate chip.”

I laugh, since I know there are at least two pints of mint chocolate chip in her freezer right now. “Are you sure you don’t want to use vanilla for the sex-is-an-ice-cream-flavor metaphor?”

Alex shakes her head. “Nope. Too obvious.” She takes my hand and draws me toward the couch. My heart soars. She does want this, even enough to choose the slightly less comfortable couch instead of the bed just because it’s quicker.

Before she can lie down, I take my time undressing her. I undo each button of her blouse, pressing soft, gentle kisses to her lips each time I pop one open. Once it’s open at the front, I smooth it off of her shoulders until the sleeves are caught at her elbow. Part of me is tempted to leave the blouse on like that and restrict her arm movement, but she’s given me permission to be a little selfish tonight. I’m going to take her up on her offer and savor every inch of her bare skin.

Once her blouse is gone, I spend a little time teasing her through her undershirt. I run my hands up along her stomach, dipping below the hem to graze the bare skin of her abdomen before I cup her breasts through the material. My reward is a low, encouraging groan, and I run my thumbs in circles over her nipples until I can feel them poking through the fabric. I’m tempted to strip her to the waist and touch them without anything left between us, but I decide to take off her skirt first. I know exactly where the zipper is on this one without having to search, especially since I had been toying with it before. Soon, it falls down to her ankles.

I look down to check and see if she’s still wearing her shoes, but her feet are bare except for her stockings. I take my time with those, kneeling in front of her so I can peel them down over her knees and past the firm muscles of her calves. Aside from her ass, her legs have always been another of my favorite parts. I can tell she runs just by looking at them. 

Once the stockings are gone, I can’t resist placing a soft kiss on the point of her pubic bone, grazing her underwear with my lips. My own inner muscles pulse a little when I notice that the fabric is a little darker between her legs. She’s already wet for me. Somehow, that comes as a relief. Part of me has been afraid that she won’t want to do this anymore now that she’s revealed her darker fantasies. Her physical response sets me at ease.

I’m tempted to tear her underwear off and taste her right away, but I remember my resolve. I want her naked for me. I stand back up and pull her undershirt over her head, reaching behind her to unhook the clasp of her bra once it’s off. It only takes me a second, and she sighs with relief after it’s gone. I kiss down the slope of her chest, bending over so I can trail my lips over her neck, her collarbone, down to the tip of her right breast. She shivers as I pull the point of her nipple between my lips and lash my tongue over it, using just a hint of teeth. I tug a little harder. I know exactly how to make her body respond.

“Liv, please,” she whispers from just above me. I can hear her voice trembling a little. “I-I need to lie down or I’m going to fall…”

I lower her onto the couch, keeping my arms beneath hers to make sure she doesn’t fall. Once she’s comfortable, I settle on top of her and begin my slow descent. I start with her lips, kissing them again and again. I take a few small breaks to kiss her chin, her cheeks, the soft place just behind her ear, but I always end up coming back to her soft, warm mouth. I love kissing Alex, and I could probably do it for days. She always tastes so good, even with traces of wine on her tongue.

Only the prize I haven’t claimed yet manages to tear me away from Alex’s lips, but I take my time getting there. I pause at her breasts again, switching between them until her hips begin rocking up into mine. One of her knees hooks around my waist, pulling tight as she tries to grind against me. But I don’t let her. I keep moving down, leaving a lazy, wandering trail of hot kisses and nips along the flat plane of her stomach. I pause at her navel, biting down until I coax a delighted hiss from between her teeth.

Finally, I settle between her legs. The fabric of her panties is soaked, and I ease them down over her hips. She lifts up to help me, and soon, they’re somewhere beside the couch with the rest of her clothes. I lower myself back down and just look at her for a few seconds. I’ve always liked women. Liked how they looked, how they smelled, how they tasted. But Alex is something special. She’s absolutely beautiful. Her outer lips are already a little puffy from my attention, blossoming open to reveal pink, shimmering inner folds. The firm point of her clit is swollen and red, and the hood is already pulled back over the sensitive tip. I want to take it between my lips and suck until she releases a flood of warmth all over my chin, but I don’t want to waste my chance. I need to taste every inch of her before I’m finished.

I start slow, running the tip of my tongue between her outer lips once and stopping just short of her clit. She whimpers and tries to shift forward, hoping I’ll go just a little higher, but I pull away. I scatter a few kisses across her inner thighs, biting down for a moment before I focus back between her legs. I lick her again, pausing to swirl around her entrance and gather up some of the sweetness there. She lets out a squeak of surprise and grips one of my shoulders with her hand, tightening her fingers to let me know that she wants more.

I indulge her, probably because I also want to indulge myself. I spend the next several minutes seeing how much wetness I can draw out of her. I circle, flicker, press inside. A river spills into my mouth, and her hips start rocking, trying to take me deeper. My tongue can only tease at penetration, but I still feel some of the clinging velvet, the heated silk my fingers and my cock are buried in so often. I curl my tongue forward, trying to find the swollen spot that grows along her front wall when she’s close. I feel it, and I press against it with my tongue until my jaw burns with the effort.

Either I’m doing something very right, or Alex is extra sensitive to my attention, because she screams and both of her hands clutch at the back of my head, pulling me close as her hips buck wildly against my mouth. Salt and sweetness pour over my lips, and I try and take as much as I can, thrusting my tongue in and out of her. She gasps and shudders beneath me, and I stare up along her pulsing stomach, past the perfect swells of her breasts and up into her eyes. She’s looking at me. She’s seeing me.

Her orgasm ends quicker than usual, but I can tell it was a good one. She’s a limp mess as she drapes herself over the arm of the couch. I spend the next minute cleaning her up, making sure to get every drop that escaped my mouth. A few more soft sounds break in her throat, and I decide I’m not finished with her. This time, I focus on her clit, pulling it between my lips and trapping the stiff point as I circle it with my tongue. Her hips practically levitate off the couch cushions, and her hands move down to the back of my neck, toying with the short strands of my hair. “Liv, please, Liv, oh God, Liv…”

My name. She’s saying my name. She’s really here in this moment with me. There are no doubts or confusion. She’s enjoying this just as much as I do. As long as we can still share moments like this together, I don’t care what else she wants from me. This is perfect.

I give her what I know she needs and slip two fingers inside her. I only have to hook them forward once. Her clit pulses in the seal of my lips, and wetness runs into my hand as she explodes for me again. I stay inside of her instead of thrusting, pulling and catching against all of her secret spots. She gives me everything she has, and I smile with satisfaction as she clutches down around me. This is exactly what I need. To remember that I can still make her happy without ‘hurting’ her. It makes everything else seem less frightening.

After a while, she starts pushing me away instead of pulling me closer. “Please, stop, too much… I’m finished,” she pants, although she ripples with another hard aftershock as she says the words. I rest my wet cheek on her lower belly, cupping my hand protectively between her legs until the last of the pulses fade away. She smiles down at me, still breathing heavily, and I notice that her eyes are half-lidded. “That was amazing. Do you need anything?”

I smile and shake my head. “No. I’m fine.” And this time, I actually believe it.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, what is it about this fantasy that’s so…” I pause, struggling to find the right word. Talking to Alex isn’t usually so difficult, but I want to be careful. “Appealing to you?”

Alex brushes aside the shining curtain of her hair hanging beside her cheek. She’s wearing it loose today, and something about the way she looks without her usual tight bun makes me want to bury my face in the soft strands and breathe in. Traces of her shampoo always linger there. “I don’t blame you for being confused,” she says. “Sometimes, I still don’t understand it myself.”

She’s right. I am confused. It’s been a week since I took her over the kitchen table, and remembering what we did - what I did - always leaves me torn between arousal and guilt. I keep reminding myself that everything we shared was consensual, but that only twists it around worse in my head. It’s hard for me to see the lines Huang was talking about.

“Try,” I say, shifting a little closer to Alex on the couch. The movie we’re watching is still playing, but neither of us are paying attention anymore. “Try explaining it to me. I want to understand.” Not just for Alex’s sake, but for mine.

Alex sighs. Her thigh is pressed tight against mine, but her eyes are a little fearful. I let my hand rest above her knee, trying to offer her some reassurance. “I’m not sure I can, Liv. It’s difficult to put into words. Or maybe I’m just a stereotype… You know, the type-A, overworked career man that visits a Dominatrix behind his wife’s back.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Alex… absolutely none of those things describe you. You’re trying to deflect my question.” She looks a little hurt, so I reach out and stroke the side of her cheek with the back of my hand. A few strands of hair tickle my wrist. “I’m not going to judge you. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Alex’s lips pull into a soft smile. “You are still here, Liv. And that means more to me than I can say.” She takes my hand in hers and brings it to her lips, kissing my knuckles before she sets it back on top of her thigh. “It’s all about power, I guess. Every aspect of my sexuality is centered around power. I don’t know why, but feeling powerless for a little while makes me feel strong afterwards.”

Looking back, I can see that she’s right. Everything she enjoys the most has something to do with power. Being tied up, being given orders, even asking me to wear the cock. It seems so obvious now that she’s said it. I don’t know how I missed the common thread before. I shift on my side of the couch, unsure what to say. I like the things she asks me to do for her, probably more than I should.

“My fantasies about…” She only hesitates for a split second. I doubt anyone else listening would have picked up on it. “...rape are just an extension of everything else. Rape is about power. About control.”

“About hurting someone else,” I add before I can stop myself.

Alex looks hurt for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Yes. And that’s why no one in their right mind would actually want to be raped. In my fantasy, I can choose my rapist. Her gender, her appearance, what is and isn’t going to happen. In a strange way, I’m the one with the power.”

It makes more sense than I expected, but I’m still not satisfied. “I get why you like surrendering control to someone else. But don’t we do that already? I tie you up. I fuck you with the cock-”

“And I really enjoy it when you do,” she says, placing her hand over mine. Her thumb slides along the side of my palm, turning it over so she can lace our fingers together. “You always make me feel wonderful, Liv.”

“So, what does pretending you’re being raped do for you that regular rough sex doesn’t?”

Alex lowers her eyes a little, and her cheeks flush. “There’s more to it than just power. I like the complete loss of control. The humiliation. The idea that someone… that you…” My heart beats faster when she says the word ‘you’. “Are ripping pleasure from me, possessing me, controlling my body and forcing me to come while I’m so vulnerable…” She stops, and I can see the shudder that courses through her body. “It makes me feel a little sick, but that’s probably the part that arouses me the most.”

I try to imagine what she’s saying. To picture myself pinning her wrists down and pushing inside of her. To remember how it feels when she squeezes impossibly tight around me and screams beside my ear as a flood of warmth runs between us. I wonder just how different that blissful moment would be if I let her say ‘no’ a few times first. As long as we used a safe word…

I pull my hand away from hers. It’s too much. Too fast. But I can’t ignore the sudden pressure between my legs either. This time, I’m the one that shudders. Alex notices, and the blush at the points of her cheeks spreads down to her neck, creeping along her collarbone. “I’m sorry, Liv. I shouldn’t have said-”

“It’s okay,” I mumble. “This just… doesn’t sound much like the rape we deal with at work anymore.”

Alex studies me for a long moment. I recognize the expression on her face. It’s the one she gets when she’s about to lay out her argument, persuade someone to see things from her point of view. “Liv, when we make love, no matter how we do it, whose pleasure do you focus on first?”

I picture us a little under a week ago, remember Alex’s lean body arching and writhing on the couch with my head buried between her legs. “Yours, but…”

“Exactly. And I know you always will. You’re almost worshipful with me. But sometimes, being the focus of so much attention can be a little exhausting. This fantasy lets me escape. I don’t have to perform. I can imagine I’m a vessel for someone else’s need for a while, and my own needs don’t matter.” She gives me a small, hopeful smile that makes my chest ache. “But really, that’s the opposite of what’s happening. When I surrender to your desires, I’m free to surrender to mine. When you take control of me, you set me free.”

My heart cracks. I want to draw her into my arms, hold her, and never let go. So I do. I pull her against my chest, running my hand down the center of her back to keep her close. She tucks her face into my shoulder, and I feel the softness of her mouth graze my neck. “I love you,” I whisper, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair. I’m still not sure if I understand Alex completely, but I’m overwhelmed by her confession.

“I know.” Her breath is hot against my throat. My pulse flares beneath her lips. “I love you, too.”

It feels so good to hold Alex in my arms that we settle on the couch that way. I lie on my side and let her curl in to me as the credits of the movie scroll across the television screen. I don’t even care that we missed the ending. “I guess I was worried I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference,” I tell her at last.

“Between real rape and my fantasy?” she asks. I nod. “There’s an incredible difference, Liv. That’s what I was trying to remind myself of when I read through Poletti’s stories.”

“And? Did it help?”

A smile brightens Alex’s face. “No. You did.”

At first, I don’t understand. “Me? How did I help?”

“You stayed. You listened. You talked with me. I guess my arguments sound more convincing when I’m using them on someone else instead of running through them over and over again in my head.” I laugh. Even when she’s at home with me, she can’t stop being a lawyer. She’s already convinced me, but I don’t tell her yet. I need more time. I’m still not sure what to do with my new understanding of her.

“But there’s really no comparing us,” she continues. “Poletti wants to hurt people. I want someone to pretend with me. Someone I trust. Someone who will stop the moment I ask.” She looks up at me through the golden haze of her eyelashes, and her eyes are so clear that I can see myself reflected in them. They are startlingly blue, and so full of love that it almost hurts to look at them. “Someone like you.”

Someone like me. Alex wants someone like me. Instead of being terrified, I’m touched. I don’t know if I want to do this. I don’t know if I can do this. It’s very likely I shouldn’t do this. With my baggage, something could easily go wrong. But Alex isn’t afraid of me. She trusts me, and she’s shown that trust through every one of her actions. Knowing that she trusts me makes me trust myself, too.


	8. Chapter 8

When I step into Alex’s office, I’m not surprised to see an explosion of paper across her desk. She’s usually a very neat person, but when she gets involved in her work, the papers around her tend to multiply until she finishes up. She’s got at least three different files open in front of her, and her glasses are balanced on the edge of her nose as she flips through them. Her hair is pulled up into a graceful knot at the back of her neck, and I can see a few bite marks peeking out from above the collar of her shirt. I’m a little surprised that she didn’t bother covering them up with foundation, but I can’t deny that I enjoy the sight. Before Alex, it wasn’t something I thought about at all, but lately, a lot of her requests have started to creep into my own fantasies. She’s rubbing off on me.

Before I can laugh at the double-meaning, Alex looks up and gives me a tired smile. She’s happy to see me, but I can tell that this has been one of those days. A bad one. The kind of day where we won’t have sex because it reminds us too much of work, and she mostly just wants to talk. Normally, I don’t mind when she has those days. I deal with them at least as often as she does. But for some reason, I find myself disappointed. My sex life with Alex has always been good - better than good - but something is on the verge of changing between us, and my libido has picked up on the shift.

“Hey,” I say as I stride toward her desk, leaning one hip against it. When she doesn’t seem to notice the seductive pose, I give up the last of my hopes. I’m not the type to push my luck when she clearly isn’t in the mood. “What’s up? You look beat.”

Alex sighs and slumps a little in her chair, leaning her head back and staring up at the ceiling. She raises one of her hands so that she can reposition her glasses. “I am beat. I’ve been reviewing everything you gave me for the Cavanaugh case…”

Her voice trails off, but I don’t need to hear the rest. The Cavanaugh case has been a slow, unpleasant slog for all of us. The perp, Roy Barnett, is slightly more charming than the average scumbag, but nothing too unusual. The victim is a little more complicated. Male, and a teenager. Never a good combination. Just the right age to be terrified of his sexuality, even though I’m positive he’s straight, and just attached enough to his abuser to be reluctant to testify. His mother hadn’t seemed too thrilled about the idea, either. We had all been hoping that Alex would say the rest of the circumstantial evidence we’d collected would be enough. “Let me guess. We need more?”

She nods her head, still gazing at the ceiling above her. “A lot more. Aside from Sam’s word, we don’t have any proof. Either he testifies, or the case can’t move forward.”

I can tell she’s disappointed, and I lean over the desk, resting one of my hands on hers. “It’s all right,” I say, running my thumb over her knuckles. “Elliot and I will find something else. He’s back from his vacation. We’ll bring Barnett in, see if we can scare something up that you can use.”

Alex sits up straight in her chair and gives me a disapproving look. “Absolutely not, Olivia. You know he won’t cooperate if you question him. All that will do is set him on the defensive. What I need is a solid piece of evidence. Access to his computer, another victim that isn’t past the statute of limitations, a recording…” Her brow furrows in thought, and she pulls her hand out from under mine. I can see the spark of an idea behind her eyes. “Hmm. A recording…”

“What kind of recording are you thinking? It’s not like Barnett’s going to invite us in to search his house for kiddie porn.”

A small, satisfied smile pulls at Alex’s lips. “Not that kind of recording. We don’t need the porn if we’ve already got a confession.”

“Confession? Didn’t you just order me not to bring him in?”

“We’re not going to bring him in.” The light is back in Alex’s face as she looks up at me. She pushes up from her seat and stands behind her desk. All of her weariness melts away. “We’re going to provide the rope, and Barnett’s going to hang himself. We already know one person he won’t be afraid of talking to.”

Suddenly, I realize exactly what she means. Who she means. “Sam? So, what, you’re thinking a wire?”

“Exactly.” She begins pacing back and forth in the small space between her chair and the window, turning whenever she hits the wall. I stay braced against the desk. There’s no getting her to sit back down when she’s like this, but it’s a vast improvement on her earlier mood. “As long as his mother gives permission, and he’s aware of what he’s doing, I can use anything Barnett says to him as evidence.”

“You know whoever Barnett hires as his lawyer is going to scream entrapment, don’t you?” I ask. But Alex isn’t listening to me. She’s excited, wired, and I can almost see the energy pouring off of her. This is why she’s good at her job. This is why she has the highest closure rate of any ADA we’ve ever worked with in SVU. And this is also one of the reasons I feel such a strong pull toward her.

“His lawyer can scream entrapment all they want. If we get Barnett on tape, I’ll get it before a jury. Sam won’t need to testify, and Barnett can rot in prison.” She stops pacing and whirls around to look at me. “Get his mother on board. She trusts you. Convince her to grant permission.”

I frown. As bold as Alex’s plan is, I’m already having my doubts. “Are you sure this is the best way? It might be easier to convince him to testify. If we wire him up, that means putting him back in direct content with Barnett. Who knows what that would do to his head? Put yourself in his shoes. Would you want to go and have a friendly chat with the guy who molested you for years?”

Alex doesn’t even wait a beat. “He’s sixteen years old, Liv. He was molested by another man. Do you really think he’s going to want to tell an entire jury what happened to him? Barnett is a known factor. Sam thought they were friends. He’ll probably be a lot more willing to talk to Barnett in private than to me on the witness stand. If we put him up there, who knows what he’ll do?”

My lips press tight together. Before, Alex’s excitement was infectious, but now, I’m starting to get annoyed with her. “That’s my point, Alex. Who knows what he’ll do in either situation? He’s confused. Part of him still doesn’t think Barnett is a bad guy, and he’s probably terrified about what that means. Sure, he might choke if you put him on the stand, but what makes you think he won’t if we try to record? It could be really damaging for him. Do we really want to fuck with this poor kid’s head even more after what Barnett did to him?”

Alex leans forward over her desk, resting both hands on the edge. Her eyes flash at me behind her glasses. “If it means stopping Barnett before he slithers away and finds another victim, I’ll risk it. You know I’m right, Olivia. Thirty seconds, and it’s done. Over with. Sam won’t have to testify, and he won’t have to see Barnett’s face ever again.”

I can tell before I even answer that I’m not going to win this argument. Alex might like to give up control when I fuck her, but it’s a miracle if anyone else can out-stubborn her once she sets her mind on something at work. Even I can’t get through to her. I sigh and shake my head. Alex is determined to do this, and once Elliot, Fin, and Munch hear her plan, they’ll probably go right along with it. I let out a long, slow breath. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is the best way. My instincts are telling me that everything is going to fall apart, but I’ve been wrong before.

“Fine. Look, are you almost done here?” I stare down at the piles of paperwork that are still spread across her desk. She looks at me with a surprised, slightly hurt expression, and I soften my voice. The two of us are usually pretty good about leaving work at work. It’s the reason our relationship has survived this long. “I was thinking we could grab some dinner. I just don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Some of the crackling energy around Alex fades out. She smiles and circles the desk to stand beside me. “Well, if you’re buying, I won’t say no. What were you thinking? Fancy, or casual?”

“Definitely casual. Tonight feels like a pizza and beer night. Yeah, we can add hot wings,” I finish before she can ask. Some of Alex’s food preferences aren’t what I’d expected when we first started dating, but I know all of them now.

She threads her hand through my elbow, linking our arms together and pressing against my side. “Then lead the way, Detective Benson. That ‘won’t say no’ is now a definite ‘yes’.”

I’m comforted by how normal our conversation is. During moments like this, it’s easy to forget our work fights. It’s easy to pretend our lives are normal. A few weeks ago, I probably could have managed to forget about Alex’s fantasies, too. But as I let her go so that she can grab her purse and jacket, I realize that I don’t need to. They’re on my mind a lot, but they don’t bother me so much anymore. I’ve stopped thinking of them as a problem that needs to be worked through, or a secret that needs to stay buried. Our relationship hasn’t changed, the sex hasn’t changed, and Alex definitely hasn’t changed, if our argument was any indication. They only thing that has changed so far is me. And despite my fears and breakdowns, I’m starting to get used to it.


	9. Chapter 9

I don’t expect anything to happen when we walk through the door with boxes of food in our arms. Everything feels normal and happy between us again, but I’m fairly confident that Alex’s sly, flirtatious glances in my direction will stop once she’s occupied with her hot wings.

I don’t expect anything to happen when we finally curl up in the living room and start eating. With food spread out on the coffee table and the late news playing the background, it feels like a normal, relaxed night at home. But Alex’s hand lingers a little too long above my knee when she bends over to grab some extra napkins, and her eyes are bright behind the frames of her glasses. Apparently, I guessed her priorities wrong.

I don’t expect anything to happen when she leans closer and closer, until her beautiful face is hovering inches away. It’s not until she’s actually kissing me that I realize what she’s done. Her lips slide against mine softly at first. A delicate brush, press and release. It’s almost like a game. She’s teasing me, trying to coax me into kissing her back.

I don’t expect anything to happen, but when it does, I can’t resist.

I grip Alex’s waist with one hand and the back of her neck with the other. She shivers, then melts in my arms, whimpering against my mouth as my tongue pushes past her lips. It’s the way she likes to be kissed best. Hard, deep, until she can’t breathe. They aren’t usually my favorite kisses, but right now, something about them is perfect. I crave more.

Tasting her drives everything else out of my head. Feeling her sigh into me makes me forget all of the reasons why this is a dangerous idea. I can even smell her - the sweetness of her perfume and the heat and salt of sex. I haven’t opened my beer yet, but I already feel drunk. She’s so soft, so open to me, making sweet little noises every time my tongue strokes against hers or my hand grips her waist.

I kiss her harder. Tangle my fingers through her hair and pull it loose. It falls around her face in sheets of gold. When she gasps, I bite her lower lip and pull it between my teeth. The slight pain makes her fingers tense on top of my thigh, but I know it’s a good sign when they slide up. Too soon, both of us need to breathe. I pull away from her, and a low groan breaks in my throat when I realize that one of her hands is already cupped between my legs. The angle is awkward, so it’s not a lot of pressure, but it’s enough.

“Fuck, Alex… If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be held responsible for ravishing you.”

I don’t mean for to come out like that. It’s supposed to be a joke. But once I say the words, I can’t call them back.

Alex looks surprised for a moment. She doesn’t move. A deep red flush blossoms out from the points of her cheeks, covering her face and running all the way down her neck. Her breathing comes faster, and her pulse jumps just above the dip in her collarbone. I’m not sure whether to be aroused or terrified. “Alex?”

“Make me.”

Her voice is soft, breathless, but easily understood. I ask her to repeat herself anyway. “What did you say?”

“I said…” She swallows. Gives the hand between my legs another firm squeeze. I pulse hard against the seam, against her fingers. “Make me.”

“You know you can stop me?”

She nods her head once.

This is it. Everything comes down to whether I trust us or not. Whether I trust Alex to use her safe word, and whether I trust myself to listen. The answers come more easily than I expect. I know every bit of her now, inside and out. I know just how to touch her. I know which words to whisper in her ear. I know she isn’t too proud to stop me if things go wrong. And I know there’s nothing in the world that would make me want to hurt her.

This time, when I lean in to kiss her, she tries to pull away. It’s a hesitant action, one she has to think about, and I can tell she’s doing it deliberately, not instinctively. But I don’t let her. I pull her closer. Crush my lips against hers. Steal her breath with kisses and seal off her words before I can lose my courage. This is not just her desire anymore. It’s mine. I want to claim her, consume her, draw from her until I’ve taken everything she has.

She doesn’t resist when I push her backwards onto the couch. She doesn’t struggle when I hook one of her legs around my waist. Her hips even push up against mine, as if she knows I still need a few physical signs that she really wants this. It’s not until I take both of her hands and trap her wrists together above her head that she gives me her first, “No.”

Over the past few weeks, I spent a long time thinking about what I would do if… when... Alex said no. Wondering how ‘no’ would feel. Wondering if ‘no’ would freeze me in place, or if I would completely ignore it. But when I look into her eyes, I only see ‘yes’. She doesn’t look afraid. Her face is open, trusting, exhilarated. And ‘no’ isn’t the word we agreed on to stop this. I pull back a little, shifting so that only one of my hands is holding her wrists. I wait a beat. Give her a chance to use her safe word. But it doesn’t come.

I slide my other hand down her stomach. Shove her skirt out of the way. Drag up along her thigh. I know I should say something, and to my surprise, the right words come out. “No?” I push forward, past her skirt, past the waistband of her underwear until my fingertips find heat. “Then why are you so wet?”

It’s all I need to say. Her hips buck. More warmth spills into my hand. Physically, it feels just the same as when I’m making love to her. I’m not sure why I thought it would be different. Even though I know that physical reactions have nothing to do with consent, I’m relieved that she’s still responding to me, to my touch.

My fingers slip forward almost by accident. She’s so slick and ready that it’s impossible to stay outside. Her muscles clamp down tight around me, but they also pull me in with soft little tugs instead of trying to push me out. I’m so deep, as deep as I’ve ever been, and it only took a few seconds. I groan as heated silk ripples and pulses around me, leaning forward to trail a string of kisses along her soft throat.

“No,” she whispers again, but I can feel her clit throbbing into the heel of my palm. Its hood is peeled back along the hard little shaft, and the tip catches against my hand. I pause and look down, giving her another chance to stop me. She doesn’t. Her face is open, and I can see the trust there. Until she uses her safe word, this ‘no’ is really another ‘yes’.

I bite down in a tender place just below her jaw. Curl my fingers forward through clinging warmth. Hook against a full, heavy spot inside her. This time, her “no” is lost in a sharp cry. It’s a sound I’ve drawn from her hundreds of times before. I know what it means, but I’m surprised at how easily I can get her to make it. Usually, she tries to swallow it down for the first few minutes, and only lets it out when I’ve pushed her to the edge. She’s close. Fluttering around me, shivering with each stroke. I want her to make that noise again.

This time, I start thrusting in and out of her instead of just curling. The sweet sobs falling from her lips make it easy to ignore the painful bite of elastic along my wrist. I never bothered to take Alex’s panties off. I want to make her come so hard that she ruins them. Hard enough to stain the skirt she’s still wearing and the couch below us. I want to draw a flood from between her legs. Fuck into her until she screams her throat raw and pours out everything she has. I want...

My teeth move to another unmarked patch of skin along her throat. She hisses and tries to pull her wrists free. I tighten my grip and pin them again. If she really wants to get free, all she needs to do is say the safe word. Even though I want to kiss her again, I keep my lips where they are, sealed around her shoulder. When she’s this close, I feel like she needs to have her mouth free. Just in case.

But Alex doesn’t stop me. She goes rigid beneath me and throws her head back against the arm of the couch. I can feel the wild pounding of her heart in my own chest. Her uneven, ragged breaths. I slow down my thrusts just enough to trap her clit beneath my thumb. It’s so swollen that I can barely cover it. I slip over the head a few times, and the full spot inside of her swells against my fingertips, stretching so tight that I know it has to hurt.

Some of her words come back to me. The soft confession she murmured into the safety of my neck while I held her in my arms. _‘Forcing me to come while I’m so vulnerable… It makes me feel a little sick, but that’s probably the part that arouses me the most.’_

I release Alex’s shoulder. There’s something else she needs, one more thing I can do for her. I lean down and whisper into her ear as her hair tickles my face. “Come for me.”

She obeys. Her inner muscles squeeze and contract, clutching my fingers so tight that they can’t move. The shaft of her clit grows thicker, straining against its hood as the exposed tip twitches hard beneath my thumb. And with one more thrust, the swollen spot along her front wall finally bursts. A gush of warmth pushes out around me, running over my hand, spilling between my fingers and soaking through her underwear. And it doesn’t stop once the first flood is over. The harder I push inside of her, the faster I rub over the tortured bud of her clit, the more she gives me. She comes until the wet fabric of her skirt is clinging to her thighs and there’s a large, dark patch on the couch beneath us.

It’s too much. The pressure is growing inside of me now, and I need something, anything, to take the edge off. I pull my free hand away from hers, forgetting that I’m supposed to keep her trapped as I shove my arm between our bodies. It’s not easy undoing the button of my pants while she’s still writhing beneath me, but somehow, I manage to shove my fingers past the waistband. Only a few quick strokes, and I’m coming with her. My eyes snap shut, and all I can feel is the ripples running endlessly through my body. I’ve barely had any contact between my legs, but the violent, unrestrained pleasure I’ve forced from her is enough to give me one of the most powerful orgasms I can remember.

I groan into her lips as I finally give into temptation and kiss her. When she realizes what I’ve done, what I’m doing, Alex comes apart all over again. Another burst of fluid rushes over my hand, and this time, my mouth cuts off her cries. It isn’t until several moments later that her lips go slack against mine and her entire body sinks back into the couch. Each breath is a struggle, and I can’t keep kissing her anymore, no matter how much I adore her taste.

“Liv, it’s all right,” she says in a shaking voice, even though she can barely speak at all. “Everything’s all right. God, I love you. I love you so much. This was perfect. You’re perfect. It’s okay. You did everything right. Everything I wanted...”

At first, I’m still too drained from what just happened to realize I need the reassurances. My mind is blissfully empty. But when the doubts do come creeping in a few seconds later, I can already feel her words sealing around me, protecting me, cutting off my fear before it can take root anywhere in my mind. Maybe it’s strange, the idea that I would need more comfort than Alex after a scene like this. But somehow, she anticipated it. She knew.

I keep my fingers buried inside of her and nuzzle into her shoulder, breathing deeply and resting in the darkness. She smells the same. She feels the same against me. I haven’t hurt her, and I don’t think I’ve hurt myself, either. My mind is still spinning, and I feel lightheaded from the rapid thumping of my heart, but I’m pretty sure that I’m smiling. We’re both going to be fine.


	10. Chapter 10

I wake up to a soft string of kisses along my neck and firm pressure between my legs. Alex’s scent is all around me, and the familiar shape of her body is tucked against mine, so I don’t start awake. Instead, I sigh and lean back into the pillow, tilting my chin up so her lips have more room to explore. She doesn’t get to wake me up like this often, but I’m always glad when she gets the chance.

Slowly, I open my eyes. Alex’s beautiful face smiles down at me, and her hair is already pulled into messy pigtails. I twitch. She would never wear her hair that way to work, so the fact that she’s put it back can only mean one thing. I swallow and clear my throat. “What time is it?” I ask, even though it doesn’t matter. Alex probably switched off the alarm so it wouldn’t disturb us.

She leans down until her mouth is hovering less than an inch away from mine. “Early enough for me to tell you good morning before you leave for the day...”

I smile. “Good morning, huh? What kind of good morning did you have in mind?”

Alex doesn’t answer. Instead, she catches my lips with hers. The tingle of mint spreads along my tongue, and I realize she’s already been out of bed. She must have been planning this. Her hand presses forward, and I groan into her mouth. Neither of us bothered to pull on clothes before we fell asleep, so there’s nothing between me and her fingers. They circle my clit, rubbing the tip until I’m throbbing against her.

Only a few strokes, and I’m blossoming open against her touch, breathless with need. “Fuck, Alex…” I blurt out, breaking away from her and gasping for air. “This is some good morning already. But you don’t have to do this just because of last night-”

She silences me with a hard kiss, only pulling away once I’ve swallowed my words. Her fingers keep circling, keep flicking and teasing until small pulses start to ripple inside of me. “This isn’t because of last night, Olivia. You were wonderful, but I’m doing this because I want to. I love pleasing you, and that isn’t going to stop just because we did something new.”

I try to speak, but all that comes out is a soft cry as the heat of her mouth trails down along my chest. She stops to tease the tips of my breasts, switching back and forth until my nipples are stiff, aching points. Each time she takes one between her lips and tugs, my hips buck, and wetness runs into her hand. My inner muscles shiver even though she’s not inside of me, and I know that I won’t be able to hold out long. She knows my body too well.

The soft burn of her lips shifts down past my ribs, my stomach, my navel. She lingers in a few places, using her teeth and tongue to make me surge forward into her hand, but she never stays anywhere for long. I can’t predict where she’ll go next. She traps my clit between two of her fingers, forming a ‘v’ and milking the swollen shaft through its hood. She can’t have been touching me for more than a few minutes, but I’m already wound so tight that I’ll come if she moves any faster. “Oh God, Alex…”

“Liv…”

I’m almost too wrapped up in the sensations to notice when she starts kissing up along my thigh, but I hiss when her teeth sink into the tender skin there. It hurts, but it also makes me pulse against her hand. Her lips are hovering so close, too close to her fingers. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming next. She’s had this in mind from the beginning, and I can’t find it in myself to protest, even though I’m not quite ready to come. Her mouth always does the most wonderful things to me. 

I think I’m prepared for the first scrape of her tongue, but when she shifts her fingers down and draws me between her lips instead, I can’t hold out. The warmth, the pressure, the silky heat surrounding me is too much. I scream and thread my fingers through her hair, pulling slightly as I push myself against her mouth. I’m not usually so forceful, but I can’t help it. My clit is heavy and tight, and the pressure deep within me is too much to bear. I spill over her chin, twitching wildly between her lips as she sucks me.

She doesn’t stop when she feels me tip over the edge. Instead, she pushes two of her fingers inside me. I’m so wet that they slide forward without any resistance. She catches against the sensitive spot along my front wall, hitting it with every thrust until I’m lost in another round of shivers. Her lips stay sealed around me, and her tongue starts flicking. This time, I give her a flood. I cover her mouth and cheeks, still holding tight to the back of her head.

When she finally pulls away, I’m a shivering mess, and her face is glistening. She smirk and runs her tongue over her lips, obviously pleased with herself. I’m slightly embarrassed, but my body also feels incredibly relaxed. Most of all, I’m happy. I’m happy she still wants to make love with me this way, without any extras. Aside from pulling her hair in the heat of the moment, it was beautifully normal. And I’m even happy that this isn’t our only option. We can have sex any way we want, and still be us. I feel a blissful sense of freedom.

“That was incredible,” I sigh, flopping back against the pillows. “You’re incredible…”

“We’re incredible together,” Alex says, as if she can read my thoughts. “And it’s only going to get better.”

I smile. I can’t help but believe her.

. . .

I feel lighter than air as I walk down the hall the next morning. My cheeks are stretched with a smile, even though it’s a Monday and I’ve got a difficult meeting first thing with Linda Cavanaugh. I’m too happy to let anything bring down my mood. Alex’s “good morning” definitely has something to do with it. Having regular sex with her, sharing love and intimacy without the power games, erased the last of my doubts. If I can ‘rape’ her one evening and make love with her the next morning like nothing has changed, I’m positive we can make this work.

I stop at Huang’s office on the way to the bullpen and rap lightly on the door, careful not to spill either of the cups I’ve got in my hands. One is for him. His advice helped me listen to Alex without judging myself, and I figure buying him real coffee that doesn’t come from the burnt pot we all share is the least I can do in return. 

His voice calls, “Come in!” after a few seconds, and I balance one of the cups against my chest so that I can open the door. One of the surprising skills you develop as a cop - the ability to carry multiple cups of coffee without those ugly cardboard holders.

I step inside, and since my hands are full again, I use my foot to kick the door shut behind me. “Hey, George,” I say, setting one of the cups down on his desk. “This is for you. Five creams, six sugars, french almond, just like you like it.”

Huang smiles and reaches for the cup. “And what did I do to deserve both a visit and coffee, Olivia?”

“I took your advice,” I tell him. “It worked out great, and I wanted to thank you. Not that I want you to leave, but if you ever get tired of this profiling stuff and decide you’re sick of talking to murderers and rapists every day, you could go into private counseling and make a killing.”

Huang does not answer right away. He takes a long, slow sip from the steaming cup and lets out a satisfied sigh first. “I won’t lie and say I haven’t considered it. It’s exhausting, doing the work we do, but it’s also very rewarding. You know from personal experience. But enough about that. I’m glad to hear you haven’t been stuck in your own head. I know that you have a tendency to fall back on old patterns and compare yourself with your father when you’re upset.”

I’m a little surprised that he’s come out and said it so bluntly, but I can’t deny that he’s telling the truth. Even though I’ve never met him, my father has been one of the biggest influences in how I view myself. “Yeah. I was worried about that for a while, but I…” I remember Alex’s blue eyes staring up at me through the square frames of her glasses, filled with so much trust and love that it breaks and mends my heart at the same time. “I know she doesn’t see him when she looks at me. She sees me. Someone she loves and trusts...” Not a rapist. Not someone violent. Not someone that would hurt her. “...and I figure her judgment is way better than mine, anyway.”

Huang nods his head. “That’s a good starting point. I hope that someday, you can see what she sees for yourself, but it sounds like you’re getting a more balanced perspective through her.”

I hope he’s right. I want the lingering fear that I’ll hurt someone I love to go away forever. But for now, being with Alex helps. Knowing that she trusts me makes me trust myself. “Thanks, Huang.” My eyes catch the clock on his desk, and I realize that I’ve spent more time than I had planned in his office. “I have to go. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. Mind if I ask you one more thing first?”

Huang leans back in his chair and folds both hands around his cup of coffee. “Of course not.”

“I asked Sam Cavanaugh’s mother to come in today. Sam doesn’t want to testify, and Alex says we can’t get a conviction without him. She wants us to put a wire on him and get a confession from Barnett instead.” I sigh, and a little of my good mood fades. “She asked me to get permission from his mother.”

“And you aren’t sure it’s a good idea?”

I press my lips together. “Alex is usually full of good ideas, but I’m not so sure about this one. I don’t know which is worse - forcing the poor kid to testify after he’s already been through so much, or forcing him to talk with the man who raped him since he was a kid. Neither seems like a good option for him, but we can’t exactly let Barnett walk away and rape some other boy, either.”

Huang is silent for several moments. He sets his coffee back on the surface of his desk and folds his hands thoughtfully over his crossed legs. I can tell he’s lost in thought. “That’s a difficult decision. It’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t want to talk about the abuse with anyone, especially a jury box full of strangers. He probably has conflicting feelings toward Barnett, too. He formed an emotional attachment. It’s not uncommon in situations like this, but he has no way of knowing that.”

“So, what should I do?”

“I don’t think you should make a decision yet. Talk to Sam and his mother first. Give him the choice. He’s the one that has to decide in the end, no matter what Alex wants you to do.”

I sigh and lower my head. This is a problem I don’t have much control over. The fact that Alex and I are involved only complicates things. Huang is right. All I can do is put forward both options and see what the Cavanaughs think. “Fair enough.”

Huang gives me a searching look. The muscles of his forehead tighten with concern. “Just do the best you can, Olivia. Sam can only benefit from having someone like you looking out for his best interests.”

I cling to those words as I nod my head goodbye and leave Huang’s office, still clutching my own cup of coffee. I don’t really feel like drinking it anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

“You’re sure this is legal?” Linda Cavanaugh leans forward in her chair. Her brow has a crease in the middle, and her eyes look tired. I don’t blame her. She’s sat through more interviews and signed more paperwork than anyone deserves after finding out their kid has been abused, and this one’s going to be the worst so far. What’s left of my good mood fades away. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to be happy around her.

The two of us are isolated in a small interrogation room. Unfortunately, One Hogan Place isn’t what anyone would call spacious. Practically every room in the building is crammed full of something. Usually, I talk to criminals in here. Munch and Fin already have someone in the ‘nice room’, the place where we take the victims first off. It actually has a couch, and even bottled water if the maintenance guy remembers to fill the mini fridge.

Instead, we’re in what looks almost like a cell. A cramped, dark place with a skinny overhead light that’s almost painful to look at. It’s like someone lifted the scenery from every bad cop movie in the universe and shoved it all into one enclosed space. The fluorescent glow casts Linda Cavanaugh’s skin in a sickly shade of yellow, and I’m sure I don’t look much better. I glance sadly at the wall. No windows, only a two-way mirror. Not helpful. I wish we could have met in Alex’s office. At least the chairs have cushions on the seats. I shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore the persistent ache in my lower back.

I realize Linda’s still waiting for an answer. She’s watching me with narrowed eyes, and there are tight lines around her lips. “It’s legal,” I tell her, “but I’m not sure it’s the best option. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. We need to figure out the easiest way to help Sam through this…”

“You mean the easiest way to put Roy Barnett in jail.”

There’s no use denying it. It’s the nature of the job. We do our best for the victims, but we get our paychecks for putting criminals in jail. It’s what the chain of command expects from us, and we have to deliver. “That’s one of our goals, yes. We don’t want Barnett to send us any more victims.” It’s only a half-truth. Actually, another victim is exactly what we need to nail Barnett, but hoping for one right now is a little too morbid, even for someone as pessimistic as me. We have Sam, and we need to work with what we’ve got.

Linda is quiet for a long moment. Her gaze darts down into her lap, and she exhales through her nose. I know that look. She’s thinking. Probably remembering the first time Sam told her about the abuse, or one of their many trips here. A blur of statements, meetings, and unanswered questions like, ‘Why didn’t I know? Could I have stopped it?’

Finally, she settles on, “But why does it have to be my son? You don’t realize how difficult it is for him to talk about it. He barely speaks to me when we’re at home. Now, you want to give him the choice between going up in front of a jury, or wearing a wire and meeting with the man who raped him? That doesn’t sound like it’s going to ‘help him’ through anything.”

I sigh. There isn’t a good way to frame what we’re asking Sam to do. If it was my choice, my kid, I’d probably move far away and send them to therapy instead of putting them through this. It isn’t fair to Sam or his mother. But then I think of Alex. I remember the way her eyes lit up in her office the other day, the determination in her movements, the steel in her voice. She knows what her job is, and she won’t let anything stop her from doing it.

“I promise, Ms. Cavanaugh, we want to do what’s best for your son,” I say, folding my hands on top of the table between us. “The last time we talked, Sam said he wasn’t sure about testifying. We’re just giving him another option...”

Linda’s eyes flash. “Another option? Asking him to wear a wire and record Barnett’s confession is really the best backup plan you could come up with?”

I can tell I’m losing her. She turns her head, refusing to look me in the eye. She’s retreating into herself. I have to do something.

“Do you think it’s your fault?”

She freezes. Her eyes soften with shock, and she stares at me with such numbness that I’m not sure if she heard me. “What did you say?”

“Do you think you could have figured it out sooner? Stopped the abuse?”

“I…” She hesitates. Her shoulders sink. “I ask myself that question every day, Detective.”

“This time, you don’t have to wonder. If Barnett walks away from this… walks away from what he did to Sam… someone else’s son will be next. People like him never stop. Some of them spend decades preying on children they think are vulnerable. It’s a cycle that keeps repeating until someone steps in and ends it.”

She’s listening to me now. I can see uncertainty creeping across her face. For a moment, I’m not sure whether I’m doing the right thing. Every word I’ve said is true, but somehow, they still feel like horrible lies.

“We want to do this for Sam, too. He thinks the abuse was his fault. He thinks Barnett was his friend.” I pause. “Maybe seeing Barnett go to prison will help show him the truth.”

Linda swallows. Her lips press together, and when she lifts her head. “I can’t give you an answer right now, Detective. I need to ask Sam what he wants to do. But… I’ll think about what you said. If you really think this is better…”

Honestly, I don’t know if it’s better. Sam has a connection with Barnett, one he can’t be blamed for. It might actually be easier for him to talk to his abuser instead of a jury of strangers. Strangers who, in his mind, might judge his actions or his sexuality more harshly than a familiar face who’s shown him kindness in the past. But something about this still feels wrong. My stomach lurches, and I have to force a smile to keep from feeling sick. An old Academy trick. Usually, the guilt doesn’t hit me this hard, but there’s something about Sam and the exhausted lines on Linda’s face…

“Our ADA suggested it. She thinks this will work. Ask Sam what he wants to do. He’s already had a lot of choices taken away from him, but he’s old enough to make this one now.”

That seems to get through to Linda. She exhales and reaches for her purse, pushing back her chair. “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your time.” The words are hollow, meaningless, but I know she’ll think about what I said. I murmur a quick goodbye and offer to escort her to the front door, but she protests. “I already know the way.” It takes a moment for me to realize why that statement bothers me. No one should be that familiar with the layout of One Hogan Place unless they work here. This woman and her son have both been through hell.

Once she’s gone, I step back out into the hall, stretching my arms above my head. I always feel like I need a chiropractor, or at least a good massage, after sitting in the interrogation room chairs. I glance at my phone and realize the meeting took longer than I thought. Unless an emergency comes in, Cragen has me dealing with paperwork today, so I haven’t missed much.

I start making my way down the hall, but a familiar face comes around the corner before I get back to my desk. My face breaks into a grin, and I feel some of the weight on my shoulders melt away. Alex. I wasn’t expecting her to show up here today, but I’m glad she did. “Hey,” I say, resisting the temptation to open my arms for a hug. Over the past few months, it’s been harder to work with her. Physical contact between us is so natural, so fluid when we’re alone.

“Hey.” She smiles. The sick feeling in my stomach vanishes. My face feels warm instead. “Did I just see Linda Cavanaugh walk by on my way in? How’d the meeting go?”

I shrug. “Not great, but not bad. I laid out her options for her. She’s going to talk to Sam so he can decide what he wants to do.”

The edges of Alex’s smile start to fall away. She’s in work mode, and I know I won’t get any slack just because we’re together. “I was hoping you’d push it a little harder. A taped confession is always better than testimony. I know I can get a judge to sign off on this, but we need the Cavanaughs on board first.”

“I got her to think about it, and that wasn’t easy,” I tell her. “Do you realize how much you’re asking of them?” And of me? I add silently in my head. “You want a sixteen year old kid to meet with his rapist and solicit a confession. The least you can do is give them a few days to think about it.”

Alex lifts her fingertips to her forehead, covering her glasses as she massages away some of the tension. Even though I’m a little frustrated with her, I wish I could do something to make her feel better. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I know you did everything you could. This case has just been bothering me for some reason. I know our legal system sets the bar for proving guilt intentionally high, but it drives me crazy when scumbags like Barnett get away with it just because the victims are skittish.”

“After reading Sam’s statement, can you really blame them for being nervous?”

“No… you’re right again. It’s not Sam’s fault. If I was sixteen, I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to do what I’m asking, either.” But I know she’s lying. Alex is stubborn. Headstrong. She would have stared that jury down until they believed every word coming out of her mouth, just like she does now. I also know it’s hard for her to put herself into other people’s shoes. She’s so determined, so focused on her goals that she forgets about everything else.

I reach out and put a hand on her arm - the most contact I can make at work without arousing suspicion. We’re alone in the hall, but I have to be cautious. “If it makes you feel better, this one’s bothering me, too. It’s already gotten under my skin.”

She groans. “Not you too. One of us has to keep a clear head.”

I know she’s joking, but part of me is afraid. I’ve spent the past several weeks using Alex as my moral compass. If she thinks what I’m doing is all right, then it must be. But if she’s counting on me to do the same thing… what if both of us are wrong? I don’t want to think about it. I decide to change the subject. “So, what are you up to tonight?”

Her smile flickers back. “A hot date, actually. I was thinking dancing...”

I raise my eyebrows. A little spontaneous, but when has Alex ever been cautious about anything? “Dancing?”

“Unless something else comes up…” She gives me an expectant look.

“Maybe. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see what your date has in mind.”

She laughs and turns around, giving me a perfect view of her hair rippling between her shoulderblades and the firm swell of her backside. I stare after her until she turns the corner and disappears out of sight. If I’m going to top dancing, I’ll have to come up with something extra special for when she gets home.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s tricky, but I manage to beat Alex home and put the finishing touches on the apartment before she gets there. I pick up the bedroom, dim the lights, and hop in the shower for the fastest scrub and shave of my life. My hair is still damp and clinging to my neck when I come out again, and the clock reads 6:15. On weekdays, she usually stays at the office until around six. I don’t have much time left.

The shirt comes on first, just a plain tank top underneath my jacket. I’m not even sure if Alex will manage to get it off of me before I’m finished with her, but it’s good enough. Then, the cock. That takes a little preparation, but remembering the way her ass looked while she was walking away from me this morning is enough to work me up. After a minute, the shorter end slides inside of me. I let out a soft grunt at the stretch, but relax once it’s at the right angle.

Next comes a fresh pair of boxers. I don’t want to bother with a harness, so I pull them on over top and tuck the shaft inside. I choose a new pair of pants, jeans that hug my hips a little too tight to be comfortable. It’s not easy doing up the zipper, but it does leave me with a noticeable bulge that I know Alex will appreciate. Last is the belt. Black, long, and smooth with a silver buckle in the middle. It’s her favorite. I wear it more than I use it, but I want tonight to be special.

I manage to switch on the stereo in the corner of the room just as I hear the front door open, and I hurry to queue up the right music. A swing band. I’ve always had a weak spot for jazz, and Alex did say she wanted to dance. It’s definitely dancing music, even if this isn’t what she originally had in mind.

I open the bedroom door and lean casually against the frame, striking a pose as she rounds the corner into the hallway. She freezes, does a double take. Her gaze runs up and down my body as the singer tugs through a mournful half-step. I can tell when she notices the swell at the front of my pants because her breath hitches and she tugs on her lower lip with her teeth.

“God, you’re sexy,” she blurts out. Not the most eloquent way she’s put it, but right now, I don’t care. Sexy is exactly what I was going for.

I push off the door and stalk over to her, seizing her wrist in one of my hands and pulling her against my chest. My cock rubs against the curve of her hip, and I feel her shiver in my arms. I don’t blame her. The pressure makes my inner muscles throb around the piece inside of me.

Alex stares up at me, and a broken fragment of melody drifts out through the open bedroom door. ‘Blue eyes smoky like an opium den...’

I couldn’t have chosen a better song. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m addicted to the way Alex looks at me. She’s staring up into my face with such need, such longing. Her irises are hazy with desire, her breathing is fast, and her lips are wet and full. So I kiss them. I kiss them until she’s screaming into my mouth and I’m tearing at her skirt. I had planned to go slow, to drag her back to the bedroom and fuck her to the thumping rhythm of the bass, but her reactions pull at something deep in the pit of my gut. I need her.

It only takes me a few seconds to give up on the skirt. I flip it up and tear down the elastic of her underwear instead, completely ignoring her stockings as I back her up against the wall. I trap her there, slide a thigh between her legs. A streak of wetness paints the denim of my jeans an even darker blue. She doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring up at me with those wide, sweet blue eyes. This time, I don’t ask if she knows her safe word. I know she knows it, and I also know she doesn’t want to use it right now. 

I want to use my hands to hold her hips, but I can’t fuck her through my jeans. I groan with impatience as I undo my belt. She gasps again, just a small hiss of breath, but it’s enough. When I pull the belt off, I drive my knee harder between her legs and unthread the black leather through the loops. I double it over in my hand and trail the edge furthest from the buckle up along her thigh, teasing the bare strip of skin above her stockings. This time, she speaks. “Liv…”

It’s a plea to keep going. I tap the strip of leather against her leg. It doesn’t hurt her, but it does make a small cracking sound. She flinches, then melts. For a second, I think she’s going to slide down the wall and collapse. I flick the belt against her a little harder. This time, I earn a high-pitched whimper. She arches her neck, offering her throat, and I yank aside the collar of her blouse, biting down hard on the exposed flesh. I want my mark to be there tomorrow, just barely showing through her makeup or hidden beneath a scarf.

She sobs when I let go, when I unlatch my teeth and drag the belt all the way back down to her knee. I even pull my thigh away, but her hips push forward, pleading for more pressure without words. I give her one last swat, directly between the legs this time. That nearly has her coming, and I can already see a trail of wetness running over her thigh.

I undo my pants as quickly as I can, flipping open the button and yanking down the zipper. It takes me a second to find the shaft of my cock underneath my boxers, but eventually, I manage to work it out. The seat is riding directly against my clit, and I’m already throbbing and hard against the ridges there.

When Alex sees the tan shaft jutting out from my boxers, she spreads her legs even wider. I couldn’t ask for a better invitation, but instead of pushing my hips between her legs, I reach for her hands. I draw them up above her head, ordering her to keep them there with a look, and then press the belt directly over them. She tries to pull them away, and shivers when she realizes she can’t move her arms without really struggling.

Even though it won’t be easy to line things up, I decide to keep the belt where it is. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I bend my knees a little, and she wraps one of her legs around my waist. Despite my worries, the tip of my cock lines up almost immediately. I look down, and this time, I’m the one that lets out a low gasp. She’s swollen and glistening-red, pulsing open and waiting for me to take her. The hard bud of her clit is standing out proudly from its thin little hood, and the shaft underneath is twitching.

I don’t wait for her to move. I thrust forward and force my way into her. She screams and throws her head back against the wall, fighting against the pressure of the belt as she clenches her hands. It doesn’t do any good. I have her this time. And I’m going to have her. This is what she wants, and until she says the word, she’s mine.

It only takes a few pumps to sink the rest of the way inside of her. She’s so tight that I can feel her muscles pulling around the shaft. The little tugs vibrate all the way down to my clit. I need more pressure, more movement, so I start fucking into her, driving her back into the wall. Red swims behind my eyes. Why was it so hard for me to admit that I needed this before? Alex, soft and vulnerable and open to me. Writhing against me, beneath me. Taking everything I have to give. It’s not the only thing I need, or even the most important thing, but it’s something I want. Something I want so bad that I almost come inside of her after just a couple of thrusts.

I start to get confident. I remember all the things she’s told me, all the things she’s murmured against my chest in a halting, trembling voice in the middle of the night. I remember the words she wants me to say, and this time, they actually come out. “Fuck. You’re so tight around my cock… you must be close.” She thrashes, bucks, and a few strands of blonde hair catch in my lips, but I don’t care. I’m right. She is close, maybe even closer than I am. I keep going.

“Are you really going to come like this? After just a few seconds? After I’ve hit you and fucked you against a wall?” The ‘hitting’ wasn’t even hard enough to bruise or welt, nothing more than a soft red stripe that’s already fading, but the word makes Alex flinch. Her inner walls ripple around me. She’s balancing on the edge. I only need to say one more thing to set her off. “What kind of whore comes after being used that way?”

That does it. A loud cry rips from her throat, and her eyes snap shut. Her arms pull so hard that I drop the belt, and as soon as I do, her fingers are digging into the sleeves of my jacket, holding on as tight as she can. Warmth gushes out of her, soaking my jeans and ruining the tops of her stockings. It comes in short bursts, pushing out around the base of my cock until we’re both covered in slippery heat.

Feeling her come is satisfying, but I need more. I thrust faster, harder, reaching down to hold her hips as I slam into her. She’s had her turn, and I’m so close that I’m going to explode if I don’t get mine. She goes limp against me, still trembling through her release. Her muscles keep twitching, pulling, tugging me deeper as she tries to force the pressure of her orgasm out. Her eyes open just a crack, and what I see there sends me flying. She looks like her entire world has just been shattered and rebuilt, and right now, I’m the only thing in it. I come, shouting her name and burying myself to the hilt inside of her.

My release is quick and brutal. All of the tension, all of the fullness, all of the ache explodes into her. My muscles seize. My clit jerks so hard against the base of my cock that I almost go numb. The tip can’t stop throbbing. More wetness soaks through my boxers, but this time, it’s mine. The only thing keeping me sane is the whisper of Alex’s fingertips as they thread through the short hairs at the back of my neck. I come and come until I’ve emptied everything I have and the cock is nearly falling out, but even when I think I’m finished, her tight, velvety heat clutches around me. The seat drags over my clit again and draws out another round of hard aftershocks.

When I come back to myself, I realize that I’ve pulled out of her. Both of us are on the floor. There are a few stray spots on the carpet. Alex’s skirt is soaked through the front, and so are my jeans. Her stockings are beyond saving. She’s a limp, shaking mess as she loops her arms around my neck and collapses against me, but she’s smiling so wide that her cheeks are flushed with the effort. The steady thump of Alex’s heartbeat as she curls up on top of me is strangely soothing. “Liv, how did you…”

My throat is raw from screaming, but I answer anyway. “I listened. It’s not like I had to be creative.”

“No, but you had to be brave.”

But I didn’t feel very brave. It just… “It just felt right.”

“Yeah.” The soft curve of her cheek tucks against my shoulder. “It did.”


	13. Chapter 13

_**One Month Later** _

I lean back against the cold cement wall, trying to ignore the muffled announcements coming from the speakers above my head. The subway station is packed. Normally, crowds don't bother me, but today, I feel my annoyance spike every time a businessman with a briefcase or a tired-looking office drone walks through my field of vision. I don't want them to block my view of Barnett.

He's waiting by a pillar, scanning his surroundings instead of heading toward the tracks. Even though he doesn't have a destination in mind, he doesn't look out of place. He's wearing a long grey winter coat, just like everyone else. He blends into the crowd perfectly. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder how many of the normal-looking people that I see on the street every day are actually murderers, rapists, and child molesters. It's a pretty sickening thought.

I lower the subway map I grabbed to give me some cover and spare a glance over at Munch. Cragen paired us together for this one. We're several yards away from the meeting point, close enough to observe, but nowhere near close enough to hear anything useful. That's Alex's job. She's in a nearby office, recording and listening to everything that comes through Sam Cavanaugh's wire.

"How much longer, do you think?" Munch asks, looking back in Barnett's direction. He pretends to scan the crowd, and his eyes don't linger there for too long. Both of us know how easily spooked perps can be, especially when they know they're doing something illegal. "They should have sent Sam in by now."

"Don't know." I reach up to adjust the small speaker in my ear. "Elliot? Where are you?"

The reply comes in quickly, but there's a little static. "Near the ticket booth. I'm about to move again. He can see me."

"Quiet." Alex interrupts the conversation. "Sam's about to make contact. We'll send you in as soon as he gets us what we need." There's a harsh edge to her voice, and I know her well enough to sense how nervous she is. This was her idea, and even though she's been working with Sam for almost four weeks, she's all too aware that one slip could ruin everything.

Part of me wishes I could have stayed in the back room. We wouldn't have been alone, so I couldn't have smoothed away the lines on her forehead or rubbed away the tension in her shoulders, but maybe my presence would have offered her some comfort. But that's not my job. When I'm at work, Alex can't be my first priority the way she is at home. There's a sixteen year old kid who needs me a lot more.

Munch and I look up just in time to see Sam walk up to Barnett. He's nervous. I can tell even from this distance. His steps are halting, and his shoulders are slumped. They start talking, but I can only see the back of Sam's head. There's no way to tell what he's saying.

One minute passes. Then two. It feels more like a year. For a brief second, I catch a glimpse of Fin passing by. He moves quickly, like he's in a hurry to get somewhere, but Sam tenses up anyway. Barnett notices. He reaches out, folding an arm around his shoulder. I still can't hear, but I can just read his lips over Sam's shoulder. "I won't get you in trouble, okay?"

Another thirty seconds. Still nothing from my earpiece. I keep expecting to hear Alex's voice again, or maybe Cragen's telling us to go in and grab him. Even though the station is still fairly noisy, it feels oddly silent to me.

Elliot passes by next, pulling the collar of his grey coat up around his face. Sam doesn't notice him walking through the doors. I'm relieved. If the kid looks any more nervous, Barnett is going to make a dash for it. I can see it in his body language. They both look like wires that are about to snap.

Barnett takes a deep breath. I watch him reach out with one hand, and my stomach lurches when he strokes Sam's cheek. I force myself to keep looking, but I fold the map over in my hand. I have a feeling Munch and I are going to have to run soon.

I'm right. A few seconds later, Cragen's voice explodes in my ear. "Pick him up! Pick him up!"

Alex starts overlapping with him. "Get him outside, don't let him near the tracks!"

Munch and I start walking in unison, weaving through the crowd and toward the pillar. Barnett sees us over Sam's shoulder, and I can read the panic in his eyes. Alex and Cragen were right. He's about to bolt. I reach into my coat for my badge anyway. "Roy Barnett? Can we have a word with you ple-"

He pushes Sam away and darts off through the crowd. I try to lunge after him, but it's too late. He's got several feet on me already. Before I can make my way around the pillar, Elliot explodes out of nowhere, trying to grab his shoulder. But Barnett is too desperate to be stopped. He shoves Elliot aside, shoving him to the ground and sprinting for the double doors.

I move over to help, but Elliot picks himself up before I can get there. "Stay with the kid," he says. "He's headed right for Fin. I'm going after him."

It goes against my instincts, but I nod my head. Fin and Elliot can handle this. As Elliot hurries off, I turn back to Sam. Munch is with him, trying to offer some comfort. The expression on Sam's face reads nothing but pain. It's a look I'm all too familiar with. I want to reach out, to tell him that it's okay, but there's no time. "Come on. We have to go." The three of us head out at a brisk walk, dodging past a few surprised commuters on our way.

We meet up with Fin and Elliot just outside the doors. Fin's got Barnett slammed up against a sign near the sidewalk, and Elliot's only a few steps away.

"You haven't identified yourself!" Barnett grunts, struggling against Fin's hold on his arms. They're twisted behind his back.

Elliot flips open his badge. "You already know who we are, don't you, Roy?"

Barnett keeps trying to fight his way free, but Fin only rolls his eyes. "Don't worry. We're gonna get real intimate before you know it." The cuffs go on, and they're marching toward the squad car just as I walk up to the sign. I catch a glimpse of Cragen and Linda Cavanaugh coming from the other direction, but I only spare them a brief look. Alex is between them, and my eyes fix directly on her. Her expression is completely blank aside from a small frown. It's a very bad sign.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask as they stop in front of us.

Cragen sighs. "Kid warned 'em."

Linda rushes directly over to Sam and folds a protective arm around his shoulder. "It's okay, you did good," she murmurs, trying to drag him away. Before she does, Sam reaches into his shirt and pulls out the wire, plopping it angrily into Cragen's hand. There's no way to know whether he's angry with us, or with himself. Probably both.

I turn back to Alex. "We got something, right? After all that, he had to say something that we can nail him on!"

Alex's lips press into a thin, firm line. She shakes her head. "Not enough." She walks away from me without another word.

. . .

Fin, Munch, and Huang are waiting for us when we walk out of the interrogation room. I can see the hopeful looks on their faces. It makes the tightness I'm carrying in my chest hurt worse. I avert my eyes, and Elliot shakes his head. "Nothing," he tells them. "Barnett clammed up as soon as his scumbag lawyer got here. Not really a surprise, I guess…"

"No, not really," Huang says. He's standing beside Cragen with his arms folded across his chest. "This isn't Barnett's first experience with law enforcement. He knows our limits."

I sigh and lean my hip against my desk. My back still aches from sitting in the rickety interrogation room chair. Elliot and I just spent well over an hour interviewing Barnett, but I knew he wouldn't say anything after the first two minutes. "He knows we don't have anything on him. All he has to do is keep his mouth shut, and he wins."

"Not necessarily," Much says. "Sam can still go and testify before the Grand Jury, or we can find more evidence..." A split second later, Sam comes tearing around the corner and into the bullpen with Alex at his heels. All of us whip around to watch him storm across the room. "Or maybe not." While everyone else is staring at Sam, I steal a quick look at Alex. She's paler than usual, and her hands are shaking at her sides. I have no idea what she said to make Sam this angry, but it must have been terrible.

"Sweetheart?" I recognize Linda Cavanaugh's voice before I even see her. She rushes through the door of Cragen's office to meet us and pulls Sam into her arms. "Sweetheart, wait, what is it?"

He jerks away from her, and when he speaks, his voice is on the verge of breaking. "I wanna go home."

"Well, Sam, come on, we can talk about this..."

"No, I - I don't wanna do this!" He runs from the room before any of us can stop him, pushing past a surprised officer at the door.

There is a long pause. At first, I expect Sam's mother to go after him, but she stays where she is. Her eyes narrow, and they lock on Alex. They're sharp, accusing. Alex's shoulders drop. When she speaks, her voice is softer than I expect. "Mrs. Cavanaugh, I… I'm sorry."

"You said it would be over. You said nothing would go wrong."

I push away from my desk, preparing to step between them, but Cragen speaks up from behind Linda Cavanaugh's shoulder. "Nothing went wrong. We've still got him in custody."

"The only reason I came to you was because I didn't know what else to do! He didn't want to call the police."

"You did the right thing," Huang says. He shifts forward, just enough to put himself in the same space. "With Sam's help, we can put Barnett away for a long time." While he tries to soothe her, I steal another glance at Alex. She looks frozen. Her face does not move, and neither do her eyes. They're staring straight ahead, but I can't tell what she's looking at. I haven't seen her this numb since she walked in to find me looking through her copies of Joe Poletti's stories in the living room of the apartment. Some part of her has completely shut down.

Linda Cavanaugh shakes her head, taking a step away from us. "We tried to help you. It didn't work."

Huang reaches out to her. "You've already come this far…"

"No. I'm not going to put him through this again. We're done." She turns around and walks out, heading for the same doors that Sam ran through less than a minute before. They slam behind her. All of us remain silent, staring at the empty place where she was standing.

Cragen is the first to speak. "Where's Barnett now?"

The others look at me. I tear my eyes away from Alex. "He's processing," I say. "He'll be out on bail by tomorrow afternoon."

"Which means we've got until then to build a case against him without Sam Cavanaugh. Any chance on finding other victims?"

Munch and Fin start volunteering ideas. Barnett's old therapist, his computer, the usual avenues. But part of me knows it won't be enough. Barnett's smart. He knows how to cover his tracks. He's been through the legal system before, and he knows how we operate. Without a victim, and without anything useful from Sam's wire, we're screwed.

I look at Alex one more time. Her familiar determination is creeping back into her face, but this time, it's tinted with doubt. I can see it lurking around the edges. Her jaw is too tight, and her blue eyes are a little too cold behind the frames of her glasses.

"Alex, I assume we've got cause for a warrant?" Cragen asks.

She gives a brief nod of her head. "Plenty. You'll have it by the time you get there." To anyone else, the answer would have seemed confident. I'm the only one who can see the other emotions behind it. She's scared. Scared that this case is going to fall apart, and scared that it's her fault. The worst part is, she's probably right.


	14. Chapter 14

Alex is sitting on the couch when I open the front door to her apartment. I catch her just as she flips the file on her lap shut. She looks up and gives me a weak smile, but her eyes give her away. She’s tired. She’s disappointed. She’s hurt. And I know her well enough to know she’s blaming herself. In her mind, it’s all her fault.

I stare at her for a long moment. Part of me wants to bring it up. To talk about it and help relieve some of her guilt. But part of me thinks I should just take her back into the bedroom and hold her. Some days, touching is easier than talking. I know from personal experience.

Her face is unreadable, and I can’t tell what she wants, so I finally settle on a neutral, “Hey, Alex.”

Alex tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and shoves her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “Hey, Liv.” She sets the file on the coffee table, then leans back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. “I really fucked up today, didn’t I?”

“It wasn’t like you told Barnett we were listening in.”

Her smile shifts into a small, tight frown. “I know. That’s not what I said.”

Again, I’m not sure how to answer her. Part of me thinks she did fuck up. I wasn’t in favor of putting a wire on Sam. He’s just a kid, too confused and hurt to have the fortitude for a police investigation. But not everyone would agree with me. Alex made a reasonable call. Not the one I would have made, but she put together a logical case for her decision. She never does anything unless she thinks it will work, and she’s almost always right.

“I think it’s more complicated than you want to admit,” I say at last. She doesn’t answer right away, so I sink down on the couch next to her, sliding close enough so our thighs touch. I reach out and put one hand on her knee. It isn’t a sexual touch, not yet, but I hope the skin contact will help. “He’s only sixteen, Alex. You asked a lot of him… maybe too much. I don’t think the result matters as much as the motivation. Did you think about his feelings before you asked him to go in there?”

A line creases the middle of Alex’s forehead. She keeps staring forward at the blank television screen, away from me. “Of course I thought about his feelings,” she whispers. “I thought about them every day this month. But then I thought about what would happen if Barnett walked… if Sam decided not to testify and we lost our entire case. He seemed eager to have another option besides facing a jury.”

I shift my hand further up her thigh to take her fingers in mine. “And now?”

Alex’s hand stays limp as I run my thumb over her knuckles. “Now, I think we’re screwed. The last thing Sam said before he stormed out of my office was, ‘I’m not a fag.’ There’s no way he’ll ever trust me again, and no way his mother would let him testify even if he wanted to. We’ll have to start from scratch.”

“We’ve started from scratch before. It’s not impossible. People like Barnett always leave plenty of victims behind…”

“And how many are still within the statute of limitations? We need someone recent, and Sam’s our only fresh connection.” Alex pulls her hand away and rests her elbows on her knees, bending forward and staring down into her lap. “I don’t know about this, Liv. I think I ruined our best shot.”

I stare at her pale cheeks, her drawn face, and make a decision. This is one of the times when talking won’t help, when a kiss can heal more than any words. I reach out to stroke her cheek, cupping the soft curve of her jaw in my hand. Even like this, with red-rimmed eyes and deep worry lines, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I dip forward.

She jolts when I kiss her, then freezes, trying to decide whether to pull away or part her lips. After a moment, she melts. Her hands shoot up to grip my shoulders, and her mouth presses hard into mine. I taste her heat, her desperation, and I know I guessed right. I understand her.

When she tips backwards onto the couch, I follow. Her knee hooks around my hip, and I tighten my hold on her waist. “Liv,” she whispers. Her lips tremble around my name. I don’t say anything. Instead, I kiss her until we’re breathless. We don’t need to talk, just touch. My fingertips brush her knee, tease beneath the hem of her skirt. Her legs are bare, and her skin is so warm. I can see her pulse pounding along the soft curve of her throat. “Liv…” My name again. This time, she follows it up by sliding her hand over mine. Together, we lift the skirt up.

My teeth tug at my lower lip as I stare between her legs. The soft blue fabric of her underwear is already dark in the center. I don’t need to take my time, but I stall anyway, leaning forward to trail kisses along her shoulder as I unbutton her blouse. She gasps beside my ear and lets her hands roam along my back, but I don’t allow her to rush me. I know she’ll appreciate it later.

By the time I pull her undershirt up and over her head, she’s pressing insistently into my hip. I feel her desire, and it’s not just for sex. She wants to be swept away and forget everything that happened today. I move my hand from her waist and reach up to stroke her face again, folding my fingers around the arm of her glasses. “Here,” I whisper, and slide them off as carefully as I can. She swallows as I fold them up and set them on the coffee table. The only other sound in the apartment is her ragged breathing. “Close your eyes, Alex.”

She hesitates at first. Her lips pull into a small, worried frown. But at last, she sighs and rests her head on the arm of the couch. Her eyes flutter shut.

This time, my hands start at her shoulders. I smooth them down along both of her arms, brush over the crease in her elbows, rub my thumbs into her palms. Her fingers flex, but she stays limp beneath me. It’s not about power or submission, she’s simply accepting my touch. Next, I glide up along her ribcage. She arches, and I smile when the tips of her breasts harden to little pink points. I can’t help myself, and I kiss down along the slope of her chest until I pull one of them between my lips. The sweet little gasp above my head almost tempts me to use my teeth.

I stay there for as long as she’ll let me, kissing back and forth between her breasts. But she isn’t very patient, and soon, she’s running her fingers through my hair and grinding even more firmly against my thigh. The wet fabric and the pressure on top of my head tell me what she wants. I pull my mouth away with a soft pop. Usually, I’m the one begging for this instead of the other way around.

My lips wander down along her belly, stopping to kiss just beside her navel. Her stomach is mostly flat, but I adore the subtle curve at the bottom. My hands settle on her hips, and this time, I pull the waistband of her skirt and underwear down. She helps me kick them off, then tugs at me again, trying to pull my head between her legs. Alex is often demanding, even when she’s bottoming, but she isn’t usually physically forceful. On the rare occasions she’s dominated me, it’s mostly been verbal. That’s what she’s best at.

I look up along her naked stomach and realize she hasn’t said a word since we started. That isn’t like her. I pause and rest my cheek against her inner thigh. “Hey…” Her eyes open, and she looks down at me. I can tell her vision is hazy, because she has a little trouble focusing on me. “Are you okay?”

Alex lifts her head, and a few more strands of her hair spill over the arm of the couch. Half of her bun has fallen out. “No. I’m not okay. But, please, Liv...” She blinks, and suddenly her eyes are so intense that I feel all the air rush out of my lungs. “I need you.”

That’s all I need to hear. I lower my head between her legs and fold my lips around the exposed tip of her clit. She stiffens when my mouth closes over her, whimpers as I pull her in, then relaxes once she gets used to the warmth and pressure. Her hips rock forward, and I suck harder to match the force. Each soft tug makes her tremble, and the muscles of her abdomen jump and flex. Her fingers scrape through my hair at first, but then they grip the couch cushions, turning white as all the blood rushes out of her tense hands and rushes between her legs.

It doesn’t take long to bring Alex to the edge. She’s too emotionally raw to make it last anyway. I don’t even have a chance to slide my fingers inside of her before she’s coming, pushing out and spilling over in a hot flood. Wetness runs down my chin, but I don’t care about the mess. This is too important. She’s too important.

A sob breaks in her throat, and I give her what she can’t find the words to ask for. I fill her with a few hard strokes, fucking into her with my hand and coaxing out more hard pulses. The rough treatment is enough to send her into another series of contractions. This time, I pull out and slip my fingers over her clit as fast as I can, and my mouth dips down to catch the tail-end of her orgasm. The salt and sweetness are too much, and I buck forward, catching against the seam of my jeans. It only takes a firm squeeze of my other hand over the denim to send me flying.

We come down around the same time. Panting, sticky, and out of breath, Alex looks at me with tired eyes and the first genuine smile I’ve seen from her today. The sight makes me pulse with an aftershock, and I feel a little bad for coming when it wasn’t technically my turn. Some of my guilt eases when I see the damp patch on the couch cushion. I’ll make it up to her by taking care of the clean-up.

“God, you’re a mess,” I murmur, pulling apart her swollen lips and staring down at the glistening pink flesh. Most of her wetness runs clear, but there are a few pearly white spots near her entrance. I start by flattening my tongue, running over each sensitive fold before I finally reach her clit again. It’s too swollen and red to ignore, so I pull it back into my mouth. Alex tenses up, and a fresh pulse of wetness slips out of her. I can feel her inner muscles shudder with a third, smaller release.

“Christ,” she groans when it’s over, throwing an arm over her eyes and turning her head away. “Stop making me come. I don’t have anything left for you.” I know she’s telling the truth, but I check anyway, milking the hooded shaft of her clit between my thumb and knuckle as I slide my tongue inside of her. She doesn’t come again, but I get to enjoy a few more aftershocks before she pushes my head away.

“No more?”

“No more.” She sighs and peeks out at me over the top of her elbow. “Thanks, Liv. That was exactly what I needed.” I rest my chin on her hipbone and continue staring up at her. “Well, now I need a shower, but… you know what I mean.” I smile. For a few minutes, I managed to make Alex forget work, Roy Barnett, and Sam Cavanaugh. It’s not a perfect solution, but it will have to hold her over until we figure this out.


	15. Chapter 15

“So, are you going to tell me what happened at the courthouse, or not?”

Elliot turns away from the coffee maker and gives me a tired look. Over the years, I’ve become intimately familiar with his expressions, and I can read worry in this one. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Liv. Let’s just say that when Alex said she wanted to find another victim, I don’t think this was what she had in mind.”

He’s hiding something from me. I know it. When he turns around again to reach for the sugar packets, I lean against the counter, keeping his eyes. “You mean because Tommy’s statutes are up?” I ask. Thinking about Tommy makes the sick feeling in my stomach worse. He had been so ready to press charges, and telling him he was seven years too late wasn’t easy.

“No. Not because of that.” Elliot turns away, but I keep staring at him, refusing to let him shut me out. He must sense the power behind my glare, because he sighs and lifts his eyes helplessly to the ceiling and sets his coffee cup back down. “There was an incident after Sam’s testimony this morning.”

“I knew it. What happened?”

Elliot’s thin lips become even thinner as they pull into a frown. The muscles in his strong jaw bunch at their edges. “I told you Tommy took a swing at Barnett, right? Well, Barnett caught Alex with his shoulder, and they both went down.”

My heart flies up into my throat, but I force myself to swallow it down. “But she’s okay, right?”

Elliot abandons the ceiling and stares into the neutral brown circle of his coffee instead. He nods his head once, and my breathing comes a little easier. “She’s fine. A little shaken up, maybe… Alex is tough, but you know how skinny she is. She went down hard. She doesn’t take physical punishment well.”

Oh, how wrong he is. Despite her appearance, Alex can handle a surprising amount of pain. Probably more than me, actually. But Elliot doesn’t know her the way I do, and I’m not about to tell. Still, getting attacked at work doesn’t make for the best day, even if it’s on accident. “I’m sure she’s fine,” I tell him, trying to believe it myself. I’m still worried about her, and I know the tightness in my chest won’t go away until I see her in person. “You made sure she was all right, didn’t you?”

“You know I always look out for her when you can’t, Liv.”

For a split second, Elliot’s choice of words sounds funny to me. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out whether he knows more about us than he lets on. If he does, he won’t bring it up before I do. He’s considerate like that. “Yeah,” I say at last. “I know, El.” Now isn’t the time to talk about my relationship with Alex. We have enough on our plates at work already.

“She’s around here somewhere if you want to see her,” he says. I smile. Sometimes, it’s like Elliot can read my thoughts. “I thought I saw her over…”

We both turn just in time to see Alex whip around the corner and into the bullpen, her loose blonde hair flying behind her like a war banner. “He is as bad as his client, hoping the victim is too traumatized to testify,” she growls, barely sparing us a glance as she storms between the desks. “He’s lucky I didn’t knock his teeth down his throat.”

“I’d pay real money to see that,” Cragen mutters under his breath. He’s a few steps behind her. Probably a wise decision. Even I’m a little intimidated by Alex’s body language.

I can tell Alex is in no mood for pleasantries, so I suppress my instincts and bring up the case first instead of her spill at the courthouse. If she’s feeling well enough to threaten defense attorneys, falling down at work probably didn’t bother her. “Tommy Priore gave us a list of other boys who were possible victims of Barnett’s fifteen years ago.”

Elliot pushes off the counter and starts toward them. “Mostly partials, nicknames, but we’ll track ‘em down.”

Alex stops in front of my desk. Other than her bad mood, she seems to be all right, but I can see a few faults in her usually flawless appearance. A few strands of her hair have fallen out of place. One of her sleeves is slightly scuffed below the elbow, as if she tried to catch herself. And there’s a tiny crack in the right lens of her glasses, one I can only see when she turns her head beneath the fluorescent light. “Well, it’ll help us establish a pattern of behavior, but the statutes are probably expired on all of them.”

I take a step closer. I want to be near her, even if we need to stay on work terms in front of Elliot and Cragen. “We’re hoping they’ll lead us to other boys. Barnett liked to find his victims through referral from whoever he was molesting at the time.”

“Sam Cavanaugh ever refer anybody?” Cragen asks.

Elliot shakes his head. “Never said, but then again, he hasn’t been the most forthcoming kid.”

Alex looks over at him. “I’m meeting him in an hour to go over trial procedure. I’ll ask.”

Elliot takes a long sip of his coffee, and I can tell he’s avoiding the conversation again. I give him a look, and after a short, silent conversation between us, he comes out with it. “You sure you’re the best person to do that, Alex? No offense, but something about you seems to push the kid’s buttons. Maybe it’s because you’ve heard all the details about him and Barnett, or maybe something about you makes him feel insecure, but…”

Alex’s eyes harden. When she speaks, the edge of her voice cuts through the end of Elliot’s sentence. “I can handle it, Detective Stabler. This is my job. Now, start focusing on yours and track down those other names for me. Maybe then I won’t need to push Sam Cavanaughs buttons.”

I’ve had enough. Just because she’s had a bad day doesn’t give her the right to blow up at Elliot. I reach out and touch her arm, and she looks at me in surprise. The angle of her chin lowers. Her face softens. “We’ll handle it,” I tell her. “Promise. Want to go over the list with me?”

“I…” Alex looks at Elliot, then back at me. She lets out a long sigh. “Okay. It can’t hurt.”

Elliot gives Alex a nod, letting her know she’s forgiven without saying the words. He walks over to stand with Cragen, carrying his coffee with him. Once they’re a fair distance away, heading back through the hall, I sit down at my desk. Alex perches herself on the edge, hunching forward and resting her elbows on her knees. It’s not a position I’ve seen her in often. Usually, when she’s sitting on top of my desk, she uses a more flirtatious pose, one that makes her skirt ride up her thigh. This time, she’s clearly exhausted. “I’m sorry about that,” she murmurs. “This trial just has me on edge. I feel like Barnett and his slimy lawyer are slipping through my fingers.”

“And that’s Elliot’s fault how?” Alex gives me a guilty look. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “We’re all feeling the same stress. He won’t hold it against you. God knows you’ve used us both as punching bags plenty of times before.”

“Maybe you a little more than him,” she admits. She crosses one knee over the other and sits up a little straighter. 

I smile and reach out, daring to rest my hand on top of her thigh while we’re alone. “Yeah, but you always make it up to me.” Her frown melts into a small smile. “Not to ruin your mood any more, but I heard about what happened this afternoon. You okay?”

Alex closes her eyes, reaching up to take off her glasses. She folds them in her hand with a soft click. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m surprised you didn’t rush at me first thing to check for injuries.”

“Believe me, I thought about it…” I reach out and take her glasses from her. “You want your spares?”

“Yes, please.” I reach into my desk and pull out a worn leather case. Even before we were together, Alex had a habit of showing up in the bullpen late at night, demanding to see our paperwork and double-check it for herself. Her spare glasses started showing up at my desk, and one day, they never left. I pass them over to her, and she slides them on. “Thanks, Liv. That crack was starting to drive me crazy. It was right next to my nose.”

My forehead tightens. “You didn’t hit your face, did you?” I want to reach out and touch the pale curve of her cheek.

“No. At least, I don’t think I did. It’s kind of a blur. Barnett didn’t mean to knock me over. Tommy shoved him.”

“Somehow, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for him,” I mutter.

Alex laughs. “Me neither. I just wish Tommy had taken a swing at Barnett’s lawyer, too. I definitely wanted to.” Slowly, her smile fades away. “I really hope some of those names pan out. I don’t want to put Sam on the witness stand. As much as I hate to admit it, Elliot’s right. He isn’t stable, and something about me bothers him. He needs counseling, and not from a lawyer.”

“He’s doing this of his own free will,” I remind her. “All you did was ask. If a trial is going to be too hard on him, that’s his call to make.”

“Is it? I’m the adult here. I’m the one with experience. How am I any better than Barnett if I manipulate him into doing something he doesn’t want to do? Something that’s unhealthy for him?”

I stare up at her in shock. “Really? You’re back to this again? Comparing yourself with perps to make sure you aren’t sick?” Alex’s eyes slide away from mine. Her lips twitch. I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. “Come on, Alex. You know better. Unless you wake up one day and decide to spend the next couple of decades molesting young boys, you and Barnett are nothing alike.”

“I know,” she says, but I hear the doubt in her voice. She still won’t look at me.

In a moment of desperation, I latch on to the only thing I can. “Do you think I’m a bad person, Alex?”

“What?” She whips her head around and stares at me in surprise. “No. Of course not, Liv.”

“I’ve compelled people to testify during the course of my job when they clearly didn’t want to. Doesn’t that make me a bad person?” She opens her mouth to protest, but I keep going. “I just told one of Barnett’s other victims that the legal system doesn’t give a fuck about him anymore, so neither can we. Does that make me a bad person?” Alex doesn’t answer me. I throw out one more, trying to get a reaction. Anything is better than this hand-wringing self-doubt. “I ‘raped’ you last Saturday. Doesn’t that make me a bad person?”

“No, but…”

I reach out and take one of her hands in mine. “There’s a world of difference between us and them, Alex. You were the one that taught me that, a hundred times in a hundred different ways. What made you forget?”

She swallows. Reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her shoulders drop. But she doesn’t let go of my hand. “You’re right, Liv. This whole case has been messing with my head. I’m getting too emotional. I need to step back and focus on the trial. One slip from any of us, and Barnett’s back out there, ready to ruin someone else’s life.”

I stare down at our joined fingers. It’s risky, having this conversation at work, touching each other when someone could come back into the bullpen at any moment, but I’m glad we did anyway. “It’s going to be okay, Alex. I promise.” It’s not a promise I feel completely comfortable making, but it’s what Alex needs to hear. I would give her the world if I could.

“Okay. I believe you.”


	16. Chapter 16

When I open the door to Alex’s apartment, she’s already sprawled across the couch, staring at the empty ceiling while the television blares beside her. I sigh when I realize which channel it is. Alex only watches the news when she’s already in a terrible mood. Otherwise, she sticks to documentaries or old movies.

I close the door behind me and shrug out of my coat. It’s the middle of winter now, and the city’s wind tunnels mean I won’t be able to break out my leather jacket again until spring. Alex groans and tilts her head further back over the arm of the couch, staring at me upside-down. She hasn’t even bothered to change out of her work clothes, and her heels are still dangling off her feet. She must have stumbled into the apartment and collapsed on the couch first thing.

I walk up behind her and sink my fingers into her hair, running the edges of my nails over her scalp. “Tough day?”

She lets out a small groan, and her eyes flutter shut. “You have no idea.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

She doesn’t want to talk about it, but I know she will. Even when she’s miserable, she’s still logical first. She knows she has to say something if she wants to have any chance of sleeping tonight. “I had another interview with Sam. I was preparing him for his grand jury testimony.” She pauses, but I can tell she’s not finished. I move my touch higher, massaging the tension from the curve of her forehead. The skin wrinkles above her eyes as I push down, but her lips and jaw relax a little. “He told me a story about a ferry and a hamburger stand. About a night when Barnett treated him well.”

I realize what’s happened immediately. The guilty, exhausted look on Alex’s face suddenly makes sense. “Let me guess. Sam didn’t think it was a story. You corrected him.”

She nods, then lets her head fall further back into my hands. “I wish I hadn’t. I thought I was doing him a favor, absolving him of blame, but now…”

“Give the kid a break, Alex. He’s not you. Victims don’t react to abuse in the same way. Some of them need to hate their abusers so they can process what happened to them, but other people do things differently.” I let go of her and circle around to the other side of the couch, picking up her feet so I have a place to sit down. I slide off her shoes and let her heels fall back into my lap. “I know I did things differently. I tried to hate my mom for a while, but it never got me anywhere. Granted, she never sexually abused me, but still… I only started to feel better once I forgave her.”

Alex frowns. “Your mother was a victim. Her pain was so overwhelming that it bled over into you. She hurt you, and it wasn’t fair, but it’s not the same. Barnett isn’t worthy of forgiveness or sympathy. He’s a predator. He groomed those boys from the minute he met them, and once he was finished, he used them to find more victims.”

I rest one of my hands on the lower half of her leg, the part covered by the smooth material of her stockings. “I’m not saying you have to care about Barnett. But you do care about Sam. If he needs to believe in a lie to get through this, why not let him?”

Alex opens her eyes and stares over at me. “I’ve never liked lies, Olivia. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been exceptionally good at telling them.”

There’s something off about her voice, something I can’t quite place, but I know that questioning her won’t get me anywhere. For once, I can’t read her mood. “What do you want me to do, Alex?” My words waver a little. Even though I don’t know what she’s thinking, I can see the pain in her eyes, in her entire body. “Cook for you? Get you off? Run you a bath and tuck you in bed? Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

She sighs and shakes her head, sitting up on her side of the couch. “No, Liv. I don’t need anything.” She leans over, and her lips graze my temple. “You’re enough. Just you. A hot shower and a few hours of sleep, and I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first horrible case I’ve worked…”

“Just the worst,” I say.

“Every case is the worst when you’re in the middle of it. We’ll come out on the other side again, just like always, and the world will still be spinning.” She stands up and heads for the back hallway. “Go home tonight, Liv. Sleep in your own bed for a change. I love you, but right now, I’m too raw to be around anyone.”

I try not to look wounded. Alex’s apartment has been my home for the past several months. The only reason I haven’t packed all my things and moved in with her is because she hasn’t asked the question yet, and because reporting the same address on our work forms would draw a lot of unwanted attention. But I know Alex isn’t trying to hurt my feelings. If she’s asking to be alone, she means it.

“All right.” I pick myself up off the couch and turn towards the front door. “Don’t you at least want to eat first?”

“Sorry.” Alex stares at the floor. “I don’t have much of an appetite.” She must feel guilty for kicking me out, because she circles the couch again and folds one hand around the back of my neck. “I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow morning? We can stop for bagels on the way in to work if you want…”

I lean forward and kiss her. It’s soft, quick, but enough to reassure me that she’ll be able to get through the night without me. “Breakfast it is.”

. . .

The phone call comes in the middle of the night. The noise is loud enough to make me crack my eyes open, but I throw an arm over my face. I have a rule about answering the phone in bed, but middle of the night calls are an exception. They’re never good.

I push myself over onto my side and grope across the top of my nightstand until I find my phone. My fingers curl around it, and I drag it over to my ear. “Benson.”

“You’d better get down to the hospital, Liv.” I recognize Elliot’s voice immediately. My eyes open the rest of the way. “It’s Sam Cavanaugh…”

I know what’s happened. I know before either of us can voice the thought. And since we both know, neither of us has to say it out loud. “I’ll be right down. Sinai or Bellevue?

“Bellevue. Hurry, Liv. I’m calling Cabot next.”

My stomach sinks. Alex. She still doesn’t know. And, of course, she’s going to blame herself. “Wait. I have to get there first. She’ll need me.”

Thankfully, Elliot doesn’t question me. Whatever he knows, it doesn’t matter now. “Make it fast, Liv. The doctors are trying to save him, but we aren’t sure how long he’ll last.”

The ride over to Bellevue is uncomfortably quiet. The people that are still awake at this hour generally keep to themselves. No one on the subway makes eye contact with me, and I don’t particularly want to look at them, either. I’m practically alone during my short walk between the station and the hospital’s front doors. Elliot’s there, waiting to show me to the right floor.

“It isn’t good,” he says. His words wash through my ears like the roar of the waves. I can hardly make sense of them. He’s still talking me, trying to update me on Sam’s condition, but none of it sticks. My brain’s in a fog. It isn’t until he says her name that something inside me starts listening again. “I called Cabot for you…”

She steps through the door as if her name has summoned her, moving with an urgency even I can’t match. Her eyes are red-rimmed with sleep, but half-wild, and her usually perfect hair is thrown into a sloppy bun at the back of her head. She isn’t wearing her glasses, either, and she doesn’t look like herself. All I can think is, I wish I had stayed the night…

“He’s still alive,” Elliot tells her. “They’re working on him now.”

Her eyes turn to me, and I find myself repeating what Elliot was saying moments before, the words I could barely grasp. “His mom found him. He asphyxiated. Don’t know how long - he stopped breathing.”

“How?” The word is soft. Timid.

“Aspirin and his antidepressants.” I flash back to Alex’s medicine cabinet, to all of the clear orange bottles and printed warning labels. I can’t hold her eyes.

Before Alex can say anything, the door to our left bursts open. Linda Cavanaugh is standing there, fluorescent light shining at her back. She looks even wilder than Alex, eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched like a cornered animal. My heart rate spikes. This is a woman who won’t hesitate to…

“Get her out of here!” She lunges for Alex, fingers curved into hooks, tears streaming down her face. Elliot grabs her just in time. His arm folds around her chest, but she struggles wildly against his hold, her eyes still fixed on Alex. “Get out!”

Alex stumbles back, and I catch her instinctively, dragging her into the cradle of my arms. I don’t dare look at her while Linda Cavanaugh is screaming and fighting against Elliot’s grip, but I can feel how hard she’s shaking. Her breath comes fast and quick beside my ear. I can sense her frantic heartbeat.

“Are you happy now? Is there anything else you want him to do for you?” Her screaming becomes a tight sob, then a wail as Elliot drags her back through the doors. I don’t hesitate. I murmur something to Alex, something I’m not even conscious of as I shepherd her toward the exit. She can’t be here. Not now. “Get out of here! Get out!” The last thing we see before the doors shut is her twisted face, a mask of grief that I can’t forget even when I blink.

At last, I look at Alex. She’s pale and silent, and her expression is completely blank. “Alex?” She won’t answer me. “Honey?”

She pulls away from me and straightens her jacket, trying to make sense of her messy appearance. “I’m fine, Olivia,” she says, but for once, she’s unconvincing. She avoids my eyes, reaching into her purse to pull out her glasses. I know she’s avoiding me with the gesture as she slides them back onto her face.

“Alex…”

“Not now. Please, just take me to my office.”

Her office? That’s the last place she should be. I shake my head. “I’ll take you home,” I say instead.

“No. My office.” It sounds like an order, but I know better. She’s pleading with me. Her hands shake as she clutches her purse, and her eyes flick over to the closed doors. She’s thinking about Sam. About Linda.

“All right,” I sigh. “Your office. But I’m not leaving you alone.”


	17. Chapter 17

Alex rummages through her purse with a shaking hand, staring despondently at the golden nameplate on her door instead of looking down at what she's doing. Her expression remains blank, but I know something is seriously wrong when she almost drops her keys. After a few tries, she fits them to the lock, but she turns them the wrong way at first. I stop her, cupping my hand over hers to halt the trembling. "Let me."

Her arm falls, and she looks up at me with such a pleading, broken expression that I know she won't make it through the night unless something changes. Alex has a love affair with words, but at a certain point, she stops hearing them. She shuts down and closes her ears, and there's only way left to communicate with her. The hunger of skin, spiced with a little pain to take the edge off the pressure, is all she understands. I guide her into the office with a gentle touch at the small of her back, and once she's safely inside, I kick the door shut behind us and reach back to flick the lock in place.

"Liv…"

I'm on her immediately, crushing her lips with mine. If anyone else had known, had witnessed what we were doing, they might have thought I was crazy. Who would want to fuck in a situation like this? And to be honest, part of me doesn't want to at all. A corner of my brain is still with Sam, lingering at the edge of life somewhere in that miserable hospital. But I know Alex. I know her so well that her feelings bleed over into mine, that the smallest hints of her body language read like screams. This is what she needs, and for her, I'll do anything.

"Liv, no..." She stiffens, tries to rip away from me, but I hold her tighter, raking my fingers through the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. She isn't really saying no. If she didn't want this, she wouldn't fight me. She would put a soft hand on my chest instead and push me away. Maybe her voice would waver a little when she gave her safe word, but it would come out clearly. The one thing she wouldn't say is 'No', a word she's specifically told me to ignore. For her, that's as good as a 'please take me'.

I bite her lip to silence her, digging the edges of my teeth into it until I feel a deep shudder ripple along her body. She knows she needs this, too. She just doesn't want to need it. I let go with a soft pop and pause for a beat, giving her another chance to end this. Her eyes are swimming with tears, and for a moment, I think she actually does want me to stop. But then something hard flashes in them, and instead she says, "Don't."

I tap into the feel of her body trapped against mine, into the rapid rhythm of her breathing, into the flushed points of her cheeks and the dark blue of her irises behind her glasses. They're slightly crooked on her face, and probably uncomfortable, but I leave them where they are. This isn't about comfort. This is about undoing her perfect image, about taking her apart so she can finally allow herself to feel. I force myself to look into her eyes and connect with her, to forget Sam and focus on a problem I can actually fix. Maybe I can find some peace in this, too, and even a little pleasure.

"Don't?" I say. I trap one of her arms behind her back and use all the strength in my hand to rip the opposite sleeve down. The stitching is tight - it's a well-made shirt - but eventually, it tears. She flinches at the noise. "I thought this was what you wanted? Punishment for what you've done? You know you deserve it. That's why you're not even trying to fight me."

That sparks something in her, because she writhes in my arms, even kicking out once at my foot. It actually hurts, but I ignore the pain, fisting the fabric of her torn shirt between her shoulderblades and yanking her forward until her face is hovering close to mine. I bite down at the pulse point tucked just beneath her jaw. Sink my teeth in hard enough to leave an imprint. A bruise. I will un-make Alexandra Cabot until she's just Alex. I will whisper all of her biggest fears in her ear until they don't matter anymore.

"Why have you stayed with SVU for so long, anyway?" I tear through the buttons at the front of her blouse. "What happened to the career-track lawyer who was always gunning for a promotion?" I push her back toward the desk, catching her waist at the last moment so she won't trip in her heels. "Or did you think you deserved to stay here, with the rest of the disgusting perverts I pass off to you every day?"

I force her up against the desk and push my hips between her thighs. Her pelvis jerks, as if she doesn't know whether to rock forward or scramble back. Not that she has much of a choice. I lean forward, allowing myself to be tender for the briefest of moments as I tuck a loop of her golden hair behind her ear. I need that small gesture to remind myself what this really is, and I hope she does, too. "Was it because you saw something familiar in them? Or did you just enjoy reading the case files a little too much?"

That makes her angry. She throws up a hand to slap me, but I catch her wrist - just like she knew I would. I loosen my fingers a little when I realize I'm probably gripping her too hard. "Did I hit a nerve?" I wait silently for another second, give her another chance to end this. Her lips tremble, but she doesn't say a word. "Good."

I finish stripping off what's left of her shirt and lose myself in her body for a moment, unhooking her bra so that I have free access to her breasts. The tips are already cherry-red and swollen. I squeeze down harder than she usually likes. Her hips buck the wrong way - forward - and her eyes fly shut. "You're getting off on this, aren't you?" Another twist, another barely-restrained whimper. "You're sicker than I thought."

"No, I'm…"

I interrupt before she can keep going, pinching her nipples until I can tell she's swallowing back a scream. Just when I know she's at the edge of her tolerance, I lower my head and bite the curve of her breast, sinking my teeth into it until she's squirming against me. "Don't fucking lie to me," I growl into her skin. "If I reached down under that skirt of yours, I know what I'd find." One of my hands catches her knee and hauls it up around my waist. "Your pussy's dripping." She still won't open her eyes, so I grab her chin with my other hand. "Look at me and tell me it isn't true."

As soon as her eyes open again, I ruck her skirt up around her hips and shove my hand between her legs. I don't even bother taking her panties off at first. Just rubbing through them is enough. She must have been closer than I thought, because as soon as I hit the slight swell of her clit through the damp fabric, a fresh flood rushes through them. A few ribbons of wetness even manage to escape the elastic and roll down her bare thighs, threatening to stain the edges of her stockings. "You little whore…" I pinch the fullest part of her clit through the sticky material, and another surge of warmth coats my wrist. "I knew you were twisted, but I didn't think you'd come this fast."

She obviously hadn't thought so, either, because she closes her eyes again and turns her face away, breathing heavily as she rides through the aftershocks. She doesn't resist as I pull her underwear down to her thighs. The low hum of arousal I've been riding on by tapping into her reactions roars to life in earnest when I look between her legs. She's already a mess, her full outer lips pouting apart to reveal everything in between. She must have shaved sometime yesterday, because even the small golden triangle she usually keeps is gone. Her clit is bright red and slick with wetness, pushing all the way out past its thin hood. The tip jerks as soon as I touch it.

"Fuck, look at you. All I've done is hurt you, and you're already spread open and lubed up for me." I seize her chin again and jerk her head down, forcing her to look between her own legs. I see flickers of hurt and arousal twist together in her eyes. I'm on the right track. "It's a good thing you already came once. Otherwise, this might hurt." I give her clit one last pinch and drag my fingers lower, thrusting three of them inside at once. She arches, screams to the ceiling and claws at the edge of her desk, but she manages to take them. I know the stretch has to sting for her, but I have no trouble pushing my way in.

Her inner muscles clutch tight around my fingers, trying to drag them deeper. I barely even have to move to get a reaction. I curl forward, searching for the place I need. A desperate sob spills from her throat as soon as I hit it, and the pulsing heat inside her squeezes down harder. "Is this what you're afraid of?" I lean forward, tease her earlobe with my teeth as I thrust deeper inside of her. My wrist burns from the force of each stroke, but I don't care. "That everyone will find out you enjoy this? The same fucking thing you send people to jail for? You aren't just a whore. You're a hypocrite."

The wail that escapes her is so sharp that I almost stop. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts again. The muscles of her stomach are bunched with need, and her face is twisted into something between pain and pleasure, hatred and helplessness. She's close, and not just physically. She's close to breaking. I can feel it. And when she does, maybe she can rebuild better than before. I claw my way deeper into her head, pull out more of her fears. "Some people shut down after being raped. Some people drink themselves to death. Some people..." I pause, but only for a moment. "Some people try to kill themselves. But not you. You just come. And come, and come, and come, no matter how much I hurt you."

"No, I won't… I… won't..."

But she does. After all this time, I know exactly where and how to touch her. I jab my fingers up against the full, strained place inside her and grind my thumb into the slick bud of her clit. The pressure is violent and unrelenting, but it's enough. She tosses her head back so hard that her glasses fly off her face and clatter onto the desk. Her mouth falls open, and she shouts something a little like my name as her hips jerk wildly into my hand.

Wetness slips around and over my fingers, and each thrust earns me even more. The sharp pulses of her inner walls make it hard to move, but I do my best, driving as deep as I can to force out every last drop. Her clit jumps beneath my thumb, and I swipe over it in quick, hard circles, enjoying the way it makes every muscle in her body tense and shake. For a moment, I allow myself to enjoy this. I don't like witnessing Alex's pain, but I do love and crave her release. And this release is something far more powerful than a physical orgasm. I'm proud, even humbled that I was able to give it to her.

I keep fucking her as she tucks her tear-stained face against my shoulder, keep torturing her clit and coaxing out spill after spill of heat as she cries heavily into my shirt, keep holding her until she finally empties herself completely. She has no room for anything left inside of her - not even pain. By the time I pull out of her and wipe my fingers on her exposed thigh, one last degrading action to complete the scene, she's stopped sobbing. The tears are gone, and her lips flutter into a weak smile against the sweaty skin of my neck. It isn't perfect. She still isn't perfect. Her problems aren't gone. But I know she'll be able to sleep peacefully for a few hours tonight once I take her home. And she'll know that she's loved.

"I love you," I tell her over and over again. I whisper it in her hair, mumble it into a kiss on her forehead, say it as I reach for her glasses with my dry hand and slide them back into their proper place. "I love you, Alex." She looks up at me with soft blue eyes, and I can tell she's able to hear me again. Her ears and heart are open, and this is my chance to pour the right things into them. "And you're worthy of love. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. You're strong, brave, and kind, and nothing you do, no mistake you make, can ever change that."

For the first time since leaving the hospital, her entire body relaxes. She leans back against the desk and lets out a sigh of relief. "I know I am. I'm just sorry you have to put in so much effort to remind me."

I give her one last kiss on the tip of her nose and start to fix her skirt. There's no saving the stockings or the shirt, but I'm sure she has spares somewhere in her office. "Well, I guess an orgasm's cheaper than therapy and antidepressants…"

She laughs. "Both of which I'm paying for anyway. But hey, if it works…" A shadow of sadness comes back over her face. "Do you think he'll wake up? I didn't get to hear anything from the doctors before… you know."

"I don't know, Lex. I hope he will. But this isn't your fault."

Her brow lowers. It's the same determined expression I've seen so many times in court. "I know it isn't my fault. And it's definitely not his. It's Roy Barnett's, and I'm going to make sure he pays for this. As far as I'm concerned, he's a murderer now, too."


	18. Chapter 18

"Well, she was friendly," Elliot says as we step out through the revolving doors of the hospital and into the parking garage.

"Yeah, friendly." I match his stride instinctively, following the thin sidewalk and wrinkling my nose against the smell of exhaust and gasoline. Unfortunately, the cold weather persuaded everyone else to park as close to the elevator as possible, leaving us all the way at the top. "She didn't actually try to attack us this time. I guess calling security could be considered an improvement."

Elliot shrugs. "Knew we should have taken the subway. Would have been quicker than this." He's right, but I'm not complaining. At least the squad car has a heater to blow on my numb hands.

"So… what now? Alex isn't going to be happy when we tell her Linda Cavanuagh won't let us search her house." We finally reach the car, and Elliot unlocks the driver's side. I sigh and roll my eyes. "Why do I always have to ride bitch?"

"That's for motorcycles, Liv, not cars. And besides, the steering wheel's cold. Your hands must be freezing." As usual, he's read my mind. Reluctantly, I walk around to the passenger's side instead while he starts the car. "I think you should break the news to Cabot," he says once I close the door. "She'll take it better coming from you."

It's an innocent request, something no one else would have thought twice about, but I know better. He's been making little comments like that for the past several weeks, ever since the start of the Cavanaugh case. I narrow my eyes at him, hoping my uncertainty and fear hasn't shown through to my face yet. "What's that supposed to mean, Elliot? If you've got something to say to me, come out and say it."

He throws his right arm over the back of his seat, pretending to look through the rear window as he pulls out of the parking space, but I can tell he's really avoiding me. "It's nothing, Liv. Nothing important."

"It is important. Drop the bullshit."

"Fine." He shifts into drive and makes his way down through the winding levels of the garage. "Is she in love with you? Or is she just fucking you?"

I stare out the window at the line of parked cars. This time, I'm the one who doesn't want to look at him. "I thought you'd ask whether I was in love with her first." But he doesn't need to ask. He already knows. Has probably known for a while.

"So?" He stops in front of the tollbooth and fumbles on top of the dashboard for the parking ticket. I grab it instead and pass it over to him. Our eyes meet, and the pain I see in his eyes punches me right in the gut.

"She loves me," I tell him. And she's not the only one, but that's one subject we've silently agreed never to talk about.

"Enough to risk her career, apparently."

We pull out into the nearly-stopped traffic outside, and I stare back down at my lap. "Yeah."

"Look, I'm not bringing this up to make you uncomfortable," Elliot says. "You were the one who pushed it. I'm just…" His fingers go white around the steering wheel. "I'm worried about her, Liv. I look at her, and something's not right. This case…"

"It's fucking with her head," I say. "To be honest, it's fucking with mine, too." I flash back to the night before, remember the way Alex looked at me then. The unshakable focus and determination in her expression was almost frightening. "We need to fix this, El. I don't know if she can handle any more bad news."

"Yeah. Ben Tucker gives us a little hope with those videotapes, and Linda Cavanaugh snatches it away. Not that I blame her. If it was my kid in that hospital bed, I wouldn't want the cops going through my house, either."

"She should," I say. Elliot doesn't answer. I let my head fall back against the seat. "Sorry. I'm just on edge."

"Because of Alex?" I nod. This is the closest I've ever seen her to breaking, and I'm terrified of what will happen when she does. "Hey…" Elliot looks at me, and I turn my head just enough to meet his eyes again. "I'll tell her. Just be there for her afterward. We both know she's gonna need it."

. . .

"Did you tell her what we were looking for?" Alex asks. She's standing in the middle of the bullpen in full-on business mode even though it's late evening, too late for any of us to still be at work. Even the collar of Cragen's shirt is loose at this time of day, but her skirt doesn't have a single crease. Her eyes are exhausted, though, and she has the harried look of someone who's been running from place to place.

"When?" Elliot turns away from his desk, tucking a manila folder underneath his arm as he circles away from the filing cabinet. Sam's folder. We were looking through it together before Alex arrived, hoping to dig up some good news to give her along with the bad. Of course, there was nothing to find. "Before or after she started calling for security?"

Alex trails behind him, her jaw tilted up with determination. "Does it matter? Write her a note and slip it under the door. Leave a message on the answering machine."

I scoot back on my desk and rest my elbows further up along my knees. I'm grateful to Elliot for standing in the line of fire and giving me a chance to clean up the explosion later, but as much as I love Alex, I can't let her blame him for something that isn't his fault. "Do you really think she cares about helping us make our case, Alex?"

She whirls on me instead. "Make her care." I have to force myself not to flinch as she bites out the words.

"Well, we've still got this other victim… Ben Tucker," Cragen says. "What about him? He was the one who told you about the videos in the first place."

Alex shakes her head. "Never in a million years."

"Why not?" Elliot asks. I give him a warning look, trying to get him to back off, but he's determined to see this through. At this point, I can't tell whether he's still trying to help me, or whether he's genuinely angry at her. Probably both.

"You were sitting right across the table from him, Elliot. Based on that, do you think he is a good witness?"

"Make him a good witness."

"I can't make his priors disappear. Besides, that case would never get past a grand jury."

Elliot folds his arm over his chest. "So now you just take cases you can win?"

Alex isn't intimidated. She leans forward, glaring directly into his face. Her hands are trembling with anger, and I can see the strain along her neck and shoulders as she stares him down. "I take the cases I am handed by this squad. You don't like the evidence I've got? Find me some more. I can't do your job, too!"

"Can't do my what?" Elliot shouts in disbelief.

I start to push myself off my desk, but Cragen steps between them before I can. "Out of line, Alex."

I can see the exact moment that Alex's self-control snaps. Her fingers curl into fists, and the smooth lines of her face become sharp, jagged edges. Every inch of her body goes stiff, and I know that if I try to reach out and touch her, she'll rip away from my hand. "I am not out of line, and I don't work for you! You work for me, at my discretion. Your sole purposes in this process is to bring me a case I can prosecute, not one I have to fix!"

For the first time that I can remember, the bullpen is absolutely silent. Alex stands in place, the top of her chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths. Her lower lip falls, then trembles, and her eyes stare straight forward, past Cragen's shoulder at the wall behind him. I know that look. She isn't seeing anything. She's trapped somewhere in her own head.

"Fine," Cragen says. His voice is low and steady, but I can tell he's just as shocked by Alex's behavior as I am. "Then you tell us, Counselor. How can we put this man away? What would you like us to do?"

Alex's fists fall loosely at her sides, and her shoulders slump. When she speaks again, it's in a whisper. "Nothing. You've done all you can." She turns away and heads for the door, but this time, I force myself to move. I climb off my desk and follow her, not even bothering to look back at Elliot and Cragen. This isn't something they can help with.

"Alex, wait!" She stops half way down the hall when she hears my voice, and when she turns around, I see that her both of her cheeks are streaked with tears. She drops her head, hiding her face in the curtain of her hair and hoping I won't see them, but I jog to meet her and tilt her chin up. "Look, back there…"

"I don't want to hear it, Liv." She takes another step back. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. All I want to do is fix this before it's too late."

"And how are you going to do that by yourself?"

"The same way I always do," she says. "This is my job, and I don't need your help."

"Come on, Alex." I close the distance between us again. "You say you're a good liar, but you've never been able to tell one to me."

Alex doesn't answer. She swipes away a fresh round of tears with the side of her hand and starts to turn away again. I reach out and catch her elbow, not pulling her back, but refusing to let her go. She freezes, torn between falling back into my arms and pulling away.

I make the decision for her. I fold my arms around her waist and tuck my chin over her shoulder, not caring who else might walk into the empty hallway and see us. She sags against me, and I place a soft kiss just behind her ear, rocking her from side to side. Her chest jerks with a few more sobs before she finally goes still. "You're right," she murmurs beside my cheek. "I haven't lied to you before… and I think I know how to fix this."

Those are the last words I'm expecting to hear. "What? How?"

She folds her hands over mine and gently pulls them away. "Ask me again on Friday. If the judge dismisses our case for lack of evidence, I'll get you a warrant for those tapes. You should be able to re-arrest Barnett before he runs if you move quickly enough."

"Don't we want the tapes anyway?"

Alex sighs. "There isn't much hope of proceeding without them, but let's wait and see. Sam's condition might buy us a few days if Petrovsky's feeling generous. If we don't find any other leads by then, I'll get you what you need."

I know it's a big risk for her, pestering the infamous Judge Petrovsky for a warrant on the word of a convicted child molester, but I smile anyway. She doesn't look broken anymore. Instead, she seems strangely at peace. "I know you will. You always do."

Alex smiles back at me and reaches out to stroke the side of my face. "Go home, Liv. My apartment," she adds before I can ask. "There should be some leftovers in the fridge. I'll meet you there in a few minutes."


	19. Chapter 19

I've just thrown my scarf around my neck and pushed my chair back underneath my desk when the phone rings. The sound makes my chest tighten. No one ever calls my work number just to say hello, not even Alex, and I'm too emotionally exhausted to deal with anything else today. For a moment, I'm tempted to leave and let it ring through to voicemail, but my conscience gets the better of me. I pick up the phone. "Benson."

 _"Olivia?"_  It's Alex, and her voice loosens some of the knots in my stomach.  _"Bad news first: Petrovsky dropped the charges against Barnett. He's probably at home packing his stuff right now."_

It's disappointing to hear, but not unexpected. Our case is worthless without Sam's testimony. I lean my hip against the desk and sigh. "I'm sorry, Alex... but you said 'bad news first'. I hope that means there's good news, too?"

_"I see why they made you a detective. Yes, there's good news too. I've got a surprise for you. Can you meet me at Linda Cavanaugh's house in ten minutes?"_

My eyes widen in surprise. I knew that Alex was going to try and convince Petrovsky to sign off on a search warrant once Barnett's case was dismissed, but I was realistic about her chances: she didn't have any. "You actually got the warrant? Whose desk did you have to crawl under to pull that one off?"

It's a running joke between us, and I know Alex isn't offended, but when she laughs, something is off about the sound. I can't tell what it is.  _"You don't want to know. Meet me at Linda Cavanaugh's house, and bring Elliot with you. We need to move quickly and find those tapes before Barnett flees the state."_

I glance over at Elliot's desk, but even though he's still on duty for the new couple of hours, he's nowhere to be found. "I'll track him down. He can't be far, he was just in here a minute ago. We'll meet you there as soon as we can." I pause. "Make sure you don't go in without us. I don't want Linda Cavanaugh trying to hit you again."

_"I can't blame her for that. If Sam had been my son, I probably would have tried to hit me, too."_

I frown. "You just got that butterfly bandage off your head, and I don't want you wearing anything worse. Wait for me and Elliot, okay?"

_"Okay, but hurry up. We have a few hours at most."_

I hang up the phone, although it feels strange to end the conversation without an 'I love you'. Elliot still hasn't come back to his desk, so I leave the bullpen and hurry out in the hall to look for him. I nearly run into him on the way to the elevator, and he looks surprised to see me wearing my coat. "Hey, where were you, El? We gotta go."

He lifts his hand to show me a fresh styrofoam mug. "Coffee. What's up?"

I push past him and head into the elevator, trusting that he'll follow me. "Cabot called. She wants us to meet her at the Cavanaugh's now."

"She got a search warrant?"

I nod as the elevator doors shut behind us. "Yeah. Must have called in a big favor."

Elliot snorts. "Damn, who's desk did she have to crawl under to get it?"

"That's exactly what I said. She didn't tell me, but if it's Petrovsky, I don't want the surveillance tape." We spend the rest of the ride to the first floor in silence, but excitement and hope are already budding in my chest. Alex actually did it. She's given us a chance to fix this mess of a case, probably our last chance, and I'm not going to waste it.

The drive to Linda Cavanaugh's house doesn't take long, even this late in the evening and without our siren. Elliot makes the extra effort to weave in and out of traffic, and once we're finally parked on the street beside the apartment complex, both of us take the stairs at a trot. We arrive just in time to see Alex force her shoulder between the open front door and the wall, preventing it from slamming shut with the weight of her body. I can see Linda Cavanaugh's face over her shoulder, and the expression there can only be described as disgust.

"Damn it," I mutter. "I told her not to go in alone…"

If Alex can hear me, she doesn't let on. She continues staring straight at Linda Cavanaugh. "The only reason I'm here is to find evidence against the man who hurt your son." Her voice is low, but so insistent that it sends a shiver down my spine. Elliot starts to move forward, and I place my hand on his chest to hold him back. I know Alex, and she needs to handle this on her own. "I'm more than willing to accept blame for what happened to Sam, but do not let Roy Barnett get away with what he did."

Linda Cavanaugh doesn't respond. She turns away without a word and retreats back into the apartment. It's an obvious dismissal, but she leaves the door open behind her. Alex's shoulders slump, and this time, I'm the one who steps forward. I take a risk and brush my hand against hers when I stop next to her. "You okay?" I whisper. She nods, but doesn't look at me. "Any restrictions on the search warrant?"

Her eyes dart to the side. "Nope. Whatever you can find." There's more I want to say, but now isn't the time or place. Reluctantly, I pull away from her and step inside. Linda Cavanaugh isn't anywhere to be found - probably hiding somewhere at the back of the apartment - and the place feels strangely empty as I look around.

"Bedroom first?" Elliot asks.

I nod my head. As usual, he's read my mind. If the videotapes are here, they're probably in Sam's room, where his mother would be less likely to find them. "Let's go. We're already on borrowed time."

It's never pleasant going through someone else's private things, but with Sam, it's even more unsettling than usual. His room still seems lived in, with a pile of dirty clothes on the floor and school binders on top of the desk. There are snowboarding posters on the wall and a line of trophies above the bed. My heart sinks. Sam won't be sleeping here tonight. He'll probably never see this room again.

Elliot clears his throat, and I turn to look at him. He's still standing by the door, and judging by the look on his face, he's thinking the same thoughts. "I'll take the closet," he says after a minute. "You check under the bed."

I drop down to my knees, but the only thing beneath the bed is a layer of dust on the carpet. I check under the mattress next, then inside his pillowcases as a last resort, but still no luck. With a sigh, I move on to the nightstand. The top drawer is full of magazines, and I flip through them halfheartedly.

"Liv…"

I drop the magazines and whip around to face Elliot. "Whatcha got?"

"Dunno."

He steps back out of the closet with a small brown package in his hand. It's sealed, and there's a small label in the top lefthand corner. I smile when I read the name, and Elliot does, too. "Return address is Barnett's."

Elliot rips the package open and tips it over the bed, sending a shower of styrofoam over the covers. Four black cassette tapes drop out onto the mattress. They look old, but not damaged as far as I can tell. I let out a sigh of relief while Elliot picks them up and tucks them into his arms. "Ready to go and pay our friend Roy another visit, Liv?"

"You bet. I think he might need a little help packing."

. . .

Alex is waiting for us when we step off the elevator at One Hogan Place. She's still paler than usual, but she looks more relaxed than I've seen her in weeks. She smiles when she sees me, and I smile back. "Hey. Barnett's being processed, and the tapes we found are going through evidence as we speak. We've got him."

"I knew you would. Here." She steps to the side of the hallway so that the other people getting off the elevator can pass by and sets down her briefcase. That's when I notice the thin manila folder tucked under her arm. She holds it out to me. "This is everything I have concerning Roy Barnett's trial. Evidence, witness statements, drafts of opening and closing arguments. Along with the tapes, it should be enough to put him away."

My smile vanishes. "Why are you giving this to me? Aren't you going to need it."

"I want you to have a copy." Alex bends down to pick up her briefcase again, refusing to look at me. Something isn't right about this, but I can't bring myself to ask what it is. This is the first time I've seen her at peace since Sam's suicide attempt, and I don't want to ruin it. She reaches out and presses the folder into my hands, letting our fingers brush for just a moment too long. "Humor me, Liv," she says. "Keep it."

If Elliot notices the contact, he doesn't show it. "Sure you don't wanna join us for a beer, Counselor? You've earned it."

Alex takes a step away from Elliot and shakes her head. "No," she murmurs, "but thank you for the offer. I think I should go home and get some sleep, now that I finally feel like I can."

I reach out to pull her back, open my mouth to ask her to stay, but she's gone before I can even speak, disappearing back into the elevator we just left. The doors close, and I let out a sigh of disappointment. I had expected Alex to be triumphant now that Barnett was in custody, or at least relieved, but her behavior had been strangely subdued. I turn to Elliot, still clutching the folder against my chest. "Was it just me, or is something strange going on with Alex?"

He shrugs. "I think she's just relieved. You know she blamed herself for what happened to Sam. This is closure for her."

"Yeah, I guess…" But I'm still not certain as I follow Elliot into the bullpen.

Fin is waiting for us at my desk, and Elliot waves him over. "Good news. Barnett's being processed. We're heading to Mulligan's to celebrate."

"You're probably not gonna want to do that."

My smile vanishes, and so does the last of my good mood. Something is very wrong here. I set Alex's file down on top of my desk and fold my arms over my chest. "Why's that?"

Fin nods his head once at the door to Cragen's office. "Dad's mad."

I turn around, and immediately wish I hadn't. Cragen is standing in the doorway. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is tightly clenched. "Get your asses in my office. Now." Elliot and I look at each other. There's nothing else we can do. Slowly, we trudge past Fin and into the jaws of Hell. Whatever we did, it's got Cragen's hands twitching like he wants to reach for the alcohol he keeps for us in his bottom drawer.

We step inside his office, and he slams the door behind us. "You searched the Cavanaugh residence without consent. Barnett's attorney's on the horn with every city official he can think of, screaming 4th Amendment violation."

At first, the words don't make sense. They jumble in my head, and it takes me several seconds to sort them out. When I finally do, I still don't understand. "What? We didn't need consent. Alex had a search warrant…."

"Try again."

My throat stops up. Cragen fades into the background, and I hear Alex's voice instead. _'You're right. I haven't lied to you before… and I think I know how to fix this...'_  She lied to me. The phone call, the visit to Linda Cavanaugh's apartment, the warrant for the tapes. All of it, just to get us in the door.

My mind races, trying to make excuses for her. Maybe she couldn't bear the thought of letting Barnett get away. Maybe Sam's suicide attempt pushed her over the edge. Maybe she lied to protect me. All those things are probably true, but as coldness spreads out from the hollow pit of my stomach, I realize that none of it matters. She lied to me, to Linda Cavanaugh, and everyone else, and I'm the one who gave her the idea.

Cragen steps out from around his desk, but I can't bring myself to look at him. "Are you saying Cabot told you she had a warrant?" I flash back to the folder on my desk. Barnett's file. That's why she gave it to me. She knows she won't be the one trying his case. She'll be...

"Don't remember," Elliot says from beside me.

"Don't give me that crap. You better start saving your own jobs and stop covering for the ADA."

I bite down on my lower lip. Alex is going down for this. There's no question. Nothing I say can fix this, and if I'm right, Alex doesn't want me to try. I know what I have to do. "She didn't actually say that she had a warrant…" It's the truth, but saying it makes me feel sick anyway.

"But she specifically told you to meet her for a search, implying that she had a warrant." Cragen buries his face in his hand. "She's out of her damn mind."

Elliot catches my eye. He knows what I know, and from the look on his face, he isn't going to let this go, either. "Captain, it was a good faith search. As far as we knew, she had a warrant."

"Elliot, good faith doesn't cut it when Cabot is lying to you."

Hearing Cragen say it aloud, hearing him call Alex a liar, is too much for me to bear. "She did that to protect us," I blurt out. No matter what she's done - to me, to all of us, to herself - I can't let Cragen tear into her.

Cragen just rolls his eyes. "What are you now, her lawyer?"

My fingers curl into fists. "Those tapes showed Barnett with half a dozen other boys. If we hadn't found them, we never would have been able to re-arrest him, and we never would have known about his other victims!"

"And if a judge throws those tapes out, we know nothing."

I don't answer. I can't answer. Cragen's right, but I refuse to admit it. I turn and leave his office, throwing off Elliot's hand when he tries to stop me. I know I haven't been dismissed, but I can't stay here.

I'm not sure where I'm going at first, but by the time I step out onto the sidewalk in front of the building, I know where I have to go. Alex's apartment. She's the last person I want to see, but some part of me knows I need to. I don't need an explanation from her. I already know why she did it. But until I hear her say it, until she looks me in the eye and admits that she lied to me and used me to soothe her on conscience, this whole mess is going to feel like it's my fault.


	20. Chapter 20

She isn't waiting for me when I unlock the door. The apartment is empty, and the front room looks eerie without any of the lights on. I tuck the spare key back into my pocket and hang my coat on the rack. I must have beaten her home, or maybe she's taking her time on the way here, trying to avoid this conversation. I close the door, but leave the lights off, heading toward the back hallway. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to say to Alex when she gets here. Maybe I won't have to say anything at all.

I'm not surprised when I end up in the bedroom, but I'm still wary. It isn't the best place for a confrontation, and I'm not in the mood for games. Not now, after my trust in her has been so profoundly shaken. I had managed to convince myself that her lies of omission didn't really count before, even the big ones, but this… this is different. She put both of us at risk instead of confiding in me.

I think back to our phone conversation, to the moment I met her at Linda Cavanaugh's door. 'I've got a surprise for you… We need to move quickly and find those tapes before Barnett flees the state… Nope, whatever you can find...' She tricked me into searching Sam's house without even saying the word 'warrant' once. I've always known that Alex is manipulative, she has to be for her job, but I never dreamed that I would be one of her targets.

A click echoes behind me, and I hear the soft sound of breathing. When I turn around, she's standing there, looking more of a mess than I've ever seen her. The perfect sweep of her bun is in tangles, her face is pale, and her eyes are ringed with red behind the lenses of her glasses. It's obvious that she's been crying. The happy, almost relieved-looking woman that greeted me in the bullpen just over an hour ago is gone.

Despite everything, part of me wants to step forward and take her in my arms. To comfort her and let her sob into my shoulder. It's what I've always done, and what I want to do. But this time, I can't find it in myself to feel much sympathy for her. She brought this on herself, and she did it by lying to me. "So?" I ask, "Was it worth it?"

She steps back. Pulls her lower lip between her teeth and shakes her head. "It's not like that, Olivia. I just…"

"Just what?" The last of my hurt is burning away, dissolving into anger. The pit of my stomach clenches. "Just thought that everything would magically work out? That you'd get some kind of backdated permission slip from Cragen and the DA's office once we had the tapes?"

"No." Her voice takes on a hard edge, and she straightens her shoulders. Even wounded, she's still proud. "I don't expect everything to work out. The tapes could be thrown out. I'm almost certainly going to lose my job. And…" She falters and her eyes dart away. "I could lose you."

Those four words slice open my chest. It's what she's been afraid of all along. Losing me. My fingers flex at my sides. I want to reach out for her again, but this time, I don't want to comfort her. I want to throw her on the bed and fuck her. It's how we've solved all our other problems over the past few weeks. Why not now?

I don't think. I step forward and grip her shoulders. She flinches, and her eyes snap shut, but she doesn't fight me. I crush her body against mine and bend down to bruise her lips. She goes stiff at first, but as soon as my tongue pushes into her mouth, I feel a familiar shiver against my chest. Maybe she needs to forget just as much as I do.

I don't talk to her. I don't have any dirty words or insults in me this time. I'm afraid if I start speaking, I won't be able to take it back later. Instead, I pull my mouth away and leave her gasping, tearing aside the collar of her blouse so that I can sink my teeth into her shoulder. She screams, arches against me, bucks along one of my thighs. That's permission enough for me.

I don't hesitate. I whirl her around and throw her onto the bed. Her arms shoot out to brace herself, but she's so unbalanced that she lands flat on her back. She scoots toward the headboard, and I follow her, pinning both of her wrists just beneath the pillows. "Liv…" Her eyes are swimming with tears, and I nearly stop everything to check and see if she's okay. But before I can get the words out, the anger resurfaces. Is it really so terrible to fuck my hurt and betrayal into her? Does it make things less horrible if she wants me to?

"Don't," I snap. I don't want to hear her talk. I don't want explanations, apologies, or anything tender from her at all. All I want is to push inside her and thrust until the pressure building in my chest and throbbing between my legs bursts. She stays frozen beneath me as I reach for the top drawer of the nightstand. The cock is the first thing my fingers hit. I wrap my fingers around the shaft and drag it between our bodies, flipping open the button of my pants and pulling them down to mid-thigh. I don't have time to bother with taking them off.

I don't look at her while my fingers start working. I'm already wet, almost embarrassingly slick, and it only takes a few short passes before the smaller end of the shaft is seated inside me. My muscles seal around it, and I raise my eyes again, checking to see whether Alex is watching. She isn't. Her eyes are closed, and her fists are curled tight in the bedspread, tight enough to make all the blood drain from her knuckles.

I don't give her a chance to prepare. I just flip up her skirt and pull her underwear down past her knees. I only bother grazing the stiff point of her clit and testing her entrance once with my hand before I line myself up. She's just as wet as I am, but she's shaking all over, and part of me isn't sure whether it's from arousal, exhaustion, or fear. But then her pelvis shifts down and her thighs spread a little further apart, and I take the invitation. I dig my fingers into the swell of her hip and slam inside of her.

I don't stop when she screams. I don't stop when tears start running down her face. I don't stop when I can't push in all the way inside of her. It takes a few thrusts - she's so tight, and I haven't prepared her - but I finally manage to bury most of my cock. I can feel her fluttering, clasping at me. If I've torn her, she doesn't seem to care. "Liv…" I start thrusting at the sound of my name, hoping to drive it out of her mouth, to take away her breath so she can't keep saying it.

I don't let myself hear the soft sobs I'm driving from her throat. I just push into her again and again, fill her as deep as I can. As hard as I can. I want this to burn. If she can walk when I'm finished with her, I haven't fucked her hard enough. She squirms underneath me. Struggles against my grip as I clutch her waist. Tries to pull her hands out from under my forearm. I don't let her. I keep her pinned and helpless, force her to take every thrust.

"Don't… stop…" she gasps beside my ear, struggling to pull in breath.

I don't answer her. I catch her mouth instead and swallow the rest of her words. She screams into me, and even though the sound is muffled, it makes me throb against the seat of the cock. As much as she's hurt me, I can't bear to give her up. Not her lips, and definitely not the silky, clinging heat between her legs. My thrusts are selfish, erratic, and a fierce, almost unbearable possessiveness flares inside of me each time I pump into her. She's trembling beneath me, almost incoherent, but her hips keep lifting to take me in.

I don't slow down, even when the muscles along my lower back start to burn and my arms shake with the strain of keeping her pinned. I hate her and love her all at once, but all of those emotions are swallowed up by need. I need to have her. Need her to share my pain. Need to come inside her, and make her come around me. I let go of her wrists and reach down to pinch the slick shaft of her clit. Just feeling it twitch beneath my fingers makes the fullness inside of me swell and threaten to burst.

I don't feel the end coming at first. My body's on autopilot, and I'm so focused on fucking her that her orgasm takes me by surprise. But before I realize it, she squeezes impossibly tight around me and rips her mouth away from mine, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. Fresh tears run down her face, and she arches as warmth gushes out around the base of my cock, nearly forcing me out on a tide of wetness. Her hands fly up, and the sharp edges of her nails rake down along my back, leaving behind stinging trails even through the fabric of my shirt.

I don't stop to let her savor the contractions. I keep fucking her. Keep splitting her apart. Keep rolling my fingers over her clit as slippery heat splashes over my hand. She clutches down around me, squeezing so tight that I almost fly over the edge with her. I want to look down, to watch her come, but I can't tear my eyes away from her face. She's beautiful, even when she's crying. Finally, she goes limp beneath me, too spent to move.

I don't wait for her to come down. I'm still full, still aching, still twisted up inside with anger and lust. I haul one of her legs up around my waist, and the change in angle is enough. Each muscle, each centimeter of skin, each string of my heart pulls impossibly tight. Then, I snap. The next thrust sends me flying. Thick, heavy pulses run along my clit, tug at my inner walls, and as everything shatters around me, they even seem to shiver along the shaft of my cock. I bury myself inside of her and stay there, groaning into the sweet curve of her neck as my release rushes out of me.

It doesn't matter that she lied to me. She's mine, and there isn't room for anything else.

When I fall back into myself, I realize that I'm still moving inside of her, savoring the last pulses of my orgasm. She's quivering beneath me, around me, and each thrust forces a whimper to spill out from between her puffy, bruised lips. Judging from the puddle beneath our hips, I made her come again without even noticing, although maybe some of the mess is mine. She finally opens her eyes, and they're so fuzzy that I can't read the emotion in them.

I freeze. Think back on what just happened. I hear her voice echo in my head. 'Don't… stop...' Was there a pause between the words? 'Don't stop' or 'Don't, stop'? I play them over and over again, trying to remember, but it's all a blur.

Alex doesn't notice. Her hands lace around the back of my neck, trying to draw me down for another kiss. I let her, too numb to resist. A smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and she falls back on the bed, too exhausted to move or speak. Her eyelashes flutter along her cheeks, and slowly, her breathing falls into a steady rhythm. I'm so stunned that it takes me a few seconds to realize that she's asleep. I stare down at her in disbelief, trying to fight the growing panic in my chest. She's completely passed out, with my cock still buried all the way in her and wetness dripping down over her thighs.

My stomach lurches. I'm terrified. Terrified to put a name to what I've done. The other times I've 'raped' her, I've been in control. But this… this is different. I was genuinely angry at her. Angry enough to… not to hurt her, but… Did I hurt her? I move back carefully onto my knees and stare down at her. She stays sprawled across the mattress, still dead to the world. Her outer lips are stretched wide around me, split open in a slick, shimmering curve of pink, but nothing looks wrong. I draw my hips back and pull out of her. A little wetness follows me, and I spread her apart with my fingertips as gently as I can. No blood. Not that blood means anything. I've seen enough rape kits to know.

I climb off the bed and yank the cock out of me, throwing it onto the foot of the bed without bothering to clean it. I know I should take care of the sheets, but I can't bear to wake her up. I can scarcely stand to look at her. I pull my pants and underwear back up without heading for the shower. It doesn't matter if I'm a mess. I drove here, so no one will see me. Even better, because I'm probably going to break down as soon as I'm in the car.

I don't look back as I hurry through the bedroom door. I can't. All I can manage is a soft, choked "I'm sorry," aimed down at my feet as I slip them back into my shoes and run for the refuge of the hallway.


	21. Chapter 21

_What have I done?_

The words loop through my head again and again as I stand underneath the warm spray of the shower...

_What have I done?_

…getting louder and louder as I scrub my skin raw.

_What have I done?_

They echo as I rinse off and step out into the steam-filled bathroom. The air is warm, but I shiver as water droplets race along my arms and down the groove of my spine. I swipe my hand across the fogged up glass of the mirror, clearing enough to see most of my face. I don't recognize what I'm staring at. It doesn't look like me. I don't feel like me. I'm a stranger to myself, trapped in a life and a body that aren't mine, reliving memories that feel more like horrible dreams.

I stare into my own eyes. Even they don't seem like they belong on my face. Maybe Alex was wrong about me. Maybe everyone was wrong about me. Maybe I am turning into my father without even realizing it. It's in my blood, after all. Repeating the cycle. I thought I had snuffed out that particular demon a long time ago, but after what I've done...

I brace my hands against the edge of the counter and let my head fall forward against my chest. Did I rape her? I can't tell. Some moments, I'm convinced I must have. I've never been so rough with her before, and I've never been so angry with her either. But then I think back, and I'm not so sure. She didn't use her safe word. I would have stopped if she had. Does that excuse what I did? Does that make it better? Does the fact that I'm even questioning what happened instead of just admitting that I raped her make it worse?

I stare down into the sink so that I don't have to look at my reflection anymore. The surface of the counter is bare except for a soap dispenser and an empty toothbrush holder. All of my things are at Alex's place. I had to go hunting in the closet for shampoo before I stepped into the shower. This apartment is just as empty as I feel. I hate it here, but I can't go back. She probably doesn't want to be around me, and I'm not sure I can stand to be around her.

Part of me is still angry at her. Angry that she lied to me. Angry that she used me. Angry that she asked me to 'rape' her in the first place. But I'm angrier at myself. Just because she asked didn't mean I had to say yes. And maybe it was stupid to believe that she would never lie to me. Everybody lies, and she's exceptionally good at it. I even understand why she did it. I saw her face at the hospital that night when Linda Cavanaugh screamed at her to get out. I know she blames herself for what happened to Sam. She thinks she's doing the right thing. And maybe she is. I don't trust myself to know what's right anymore.

"Olivia?"

The sound of my name nearly makes me fall over in surprise. I jerk away from the mirror and my eyes flick frantically toward the door. Thank God I locked it. I don't want anyone coming in. Especially not her. And I know it's her. Even if she had knocked instead of speaking, I would have known. No one else has a key to my apartment, and no one else knows that anything is wrong.

"Olivia? Please, come out of there and talk to me."

I can't go out. I won't go out. Half of me is afraid of hurting her again, and the other half is terrified she'll hurt me. "I don't want to talk, Alex. Go away."

"Then you don't have to talk. You just have to listen."

I don't want to listen either, but I can't make her go unless I leave the bathroom. That isn't something I'm willing to risk. My legs are shaking beneath me, so I slump down onto the floor, bracing my back against the door. It opens inward. Even if the lock fails, she won't be able to get in with my weight pushing it shut. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in my arms. I feel like I should cry, but I don't have any tears.

"Olivia, you didn't rape me. I consented to everything that happened."

Her words are hollow. Why should I believe them? She lied to me about her fantasies. She lied to me about the search warrant. She could be lying again. "You didn't say yes," I say, forgetting my promise not to talk to her.

"I didn't need to. People in healthy long term relationships can enter a state of implied consent. You always have my 'yes' until I use my safe word."

Healthy? She actually thinks that what just happened was healthy? And her voice. It's completely, infuriatingly calm. She's laying out her case, trying to win an argument I'm not ready to have. I just want her to feel something. Anything. Anger, pain, fear, guilt… all the things I'm feeling. "Then you're just as fucked up as I am. I hurt you!"

"You didn't hurt me, Liv." I can tell she's trying to soothe me, but every word cuts deeper. "If you don't trust yourself, then trust me when I say that I wanted everything that happened. I was in so much pain, and I needed to forget…"

But I can't forget, and I don't trust her. I swipe at my eyes with my bare arm. They sting terribly, but the tears still won't come. Something is keeping me from crying.

I hear movement behind me, and I imagine Alex dropping to her knees on the other side of the door, resting her forehead against the wood. "I'm sorry, Liv." This time, I hear something in her voice. Sadness, regret. "I was so focused on my pain that I didn't see yours. I was the one who hurt you. I never meant for things to happen this way..."

My teeth clench. She did hurt me, but maybe I deserve it. I can't tell how much of this mess is my fault and how much of it is hers. "You shouldn't have lied," I whisper. I'm not sure if my voice will carry through the door, or even if I want her to hear me. "And you shouldn't have used me. But… what I did… it doesn't matter how much you hurt me. I shouldn't have-"

"You didn't rape me," she says again.

"But I…"

"You did  _not_  rape me. Do you really want to argue with me about this?" I turn to protest through the door, but she keeps going. "Article 130.35: A person is guilty of rape in the first degree when he or she engages in sexual intercourse with another person by forcible compulsion, or a person who is incapable of consent by reason of being physically helpless."

 _Physically helpless._  Just hearing the words makes my stomach lurch. I remember the way I held her down, the way she struggled against me as I pushed inside of her.

"You didn't force or compel me, and I'm not incapable of consent. It wasn't rape, and I won't listen to you say that about yourself."

She's right. Logically, I know she's right. But then why do I still feel so lousy? I know I did something wrong. This wasn't like the other times. I trusted her then. I…

I trusted her. And now, I don't. Fucking her wasn't wrong because I 'raped' her, or even because I was angry. It was wrong because my trust in her is so shaken. If I can't trust her to tell me the truth at work, especially when so much is at stake, how can I trust her to tell me the truth during a scene? How can I trust her to tell me the truth now?

"Liv? Olivia, are you okay?"

I uncurl from my tight ball and look up. This time, I recognize my reflection in the mirror. I stare for a minute in silence, then push myself back to my feet. I open my mouth, start to tell her that I'm fine, but I'm sick of lying. At least one of us has to tell the truth here. "No, I'm not okay. Maybe I didn't rape you, but what I did was wrong. All of this is wrong."

"I never should have asked you to do this," she whispers. "I wish you'd never found out."

My anger comes back, but instead of an uncontrollable swell, it's a low, searing burn. It's something I can control. "You still don't get it. That would just be another lie."

She's silent for a long moment. I listen closely, and I can just hear her breathing through the door. "Then how do we fix this?"

I wish I knew the answer. Alex can't just magically make me trust her again. That's something only I have control over. I have two choices: forgive her, or end things before they get worse. Either I trust her despite the lies, or I don't. One or the other. I try to think back, to remember all the things she said and did, but it's all a jumbled, blurry mess. I'm not sure this is a decision I can make by looking at the past.

So I rest my cheek against the door and think. I know why she's here, standing outside my bathroom despite everything that's happened. She's here because she loves me. Even the lies were because she loved me. She hid her fantasies to keep from hurting me. She lied about the warrant so that I wouldn't lose my job along with her. It was wrong, but she didn't do it to hurt me.

I turn the lock and open the door. She's waiting for me just like I pictured, and her eyes are a stinging, angry red behind the lenses of her glasses. I was wrong about her not feeling anything. I want to open my arms and hold her, but there are some things I need to say first.

"I don't care that you're kinky, Alex. I don't care that you made a mistake with Sam. Sometimes, it's impossible not to make mistakes at SVU. But I can't work with you if I don't trust you, and I definitely can't have sex with you, or…"  _Or love you._  But that's not entirely true. I still love her now, despite what she's done. "Or anything else. So unless you can promise me honesty, complete and total honesty, I can't be with you anymore."

Alex's lips twitch up into an uncertain smile. "I'm just glad you're blaming me instead of yourself." When she sees that I'm still waiting for an answer, she reaches out to take my hand in hers. "I promise, Liv. I love you too much to lose you."


	22. Chapter 22

“So what now?” Alex asks. We’re sitting on the edge of my bed, thighs barely touching. I stare down into my lap and twist my hands together. I’m all cried out, and it’s left me feeling strangely empty inside. I want to reach forward, rest my fingertips on her knee and pull her cheek against my shoulder, but I keep still. If I touch her, I’m afraid the uncertain peace between us will shatter.

“I don’t know,” I say at last. I really don’t know. I want to try and fix this for both our sakes, but I have no idea how to go about doing that. My trust in Alex is shattered, and my faith in myself has been shaken. Both of us need each other, but if we keep going on like this, things will only get worse.

She sighs and falls backwards onto the mattress beside me, throwing one arm over her eyes. Her glasses are still clutched in her hand, with the arms sticking out from between her thin, pale fingers. “We both fucked up, didn’t we? I’ll be honest… me more than you.”

The question I’ve been holding back rushes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Why did you lie to me? I mean, I know you were trying to cover my ass, but why make up a fake warrant in the first place? Why not just let Barnett go?”

“Because what happened to Sam is my fault. You were right all along. I pushed him too hard. I told him what to do and what to think. I crushed his only good memory of his abuser because I decided it was what he needed. I did everything wrong. So this time, I thought…” She presses her dry lips together. Pauses to swallow. “I thought I could do something right. I thought I could fix things.”

My fingers flex in my lap, and I twist them together. “And? Did it fix things?” I glance back at her over my shoulder. “Did it make you feel better?”

Her arm falls away from her face and she gives me a sad smile. “Not at all.”

“So, what are you going to go do now?”

She shrugs. “Try and pretend like everything is normal. Keep going to work until Donnelly fires me. Ask my psychiatrist to up my medication. Tell myself that what happened to Sam isn’t my fault, even though I know it is.”

“It isn’t, but if you want to feel guilty about something, there are plenty of other mistakes for you to pick from.”

She winces, then slides her glasses back onto her face. “I guess I deserved that. But what about you?” she asks, folding her arms over her stomach. “What are you going to do?”

“Keep going to work and hope Cragen believes I really didn’t know what you were pulling. Maybe I’ll ask Huang for a referral. I don’t know if therapy will help, but it definitely won’t hurt.” I stare back down at my hands. “I thought I’d dealt with this shit about my father, but I guess I haven’t. I could have hurt you.”

Alex’s soft fingers bracelet my wrist, and I allow her to pull me down onto the mattress. She rolls onto her side to face me and rests one of her hands on my hip. “You could never hurt me, Liv… but if you don’t know where your own limits are, I think you could end up hurting yourself.”

“I don’t want to do any scenes when one of us is upset,” I tell her. Some of the weight lifts from my chest when I say it. “I can’t keep pretending to rape you in order to ‘fix’ you. It leaves me feeling like shit.”

“Liv, you don’t have to do those scenes at all,” Alex whispers. Her fingers trace up and down my side through the material of my shirt. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have lied to me,” I snap before I can stop myself. Her hand stops moving. I let out a long breath through my nose and fold my fingers over hers. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay.”

Both of us are silent for a long time. I shift closer to her until I’m resting my head on her chest. The reassuring thump of her heartbeat throbs in my ear, and I close my eyes. “Just give me time. Give me some space to figure out what I want.”

Her lips brush the top of my head. “Liv, you can have all the time you need, as long as I’m still what you want. I don’t care about the rest.” She pauses. “Well, I do, but not as much as I care about you.”

A little more of the knot in my stomach unravels. “I believe you. But it isn’t just about you anymore. Somewhere along the way, I started to like it. Getting those kinds of reactions from you was a power trip. I just… I can’t pretend to hurt you when you’re really hurting inside. It’s not right.”

I can feel her mouth move in a smile against my temple. “And that’s why I trust you,” she whispers.

The words make my heart lurch, and I clutch the hem of her shirt with my fingers until the pain recedes. Part of me still doesn’t trust her, and I barely trust myself. “So?” I say, echoing her earlier words. “What now?”

“That’s up to you,” she says. She cups my cheek in her hand and tilts my face up so that she can look at me. She stares into my eyes for a moment, and then her gaze flicks down to my lips. “I want to kiss you, but I’m not sure if I should. Or if you even want me to.”

Of course I want her to. All of my other feelings are uncertain, but there is one thing I know to be absolutely true: I love her. And I want to show her any way I can. I push myself up on my elbow and close the distance between our lips. The kiss is soft, and neither of us makes any move to deepen it. We simply touch. Breathe together. I wait, expecting my anger to flare up again, but instead, hope buds in its place. I find enough courage to pull her closer.

I kiss her as gently as I know how. It almost feels like I’ve never done it before. It’s not about anger, or even about desire. I simply want to be close to her. I want to regain some of what we’ve lost. She gasps against my lips, then freezes for the briefest moment. At first, I’m worried I’ve hurt or frightened her. But her fingers weave through my hair, just like they’ve done so many times before, and her body melts. She kisses me back, and I start to believe that everything will be all right again.

Then her hand slides down to rest just above my hip. I freeze, suddenly remembering that I’m completely naked. The longing I usually feel when she touches me is instantly replaced by fear. Fear that I’ll hurt her, that I’ll lose control, that something horrible will go wrong. “Alex?” I whisper, hoping she won’t read the pain in my eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She cups the back of my neck and rests her forehead against mine. I can feel her lips moving a breath away. “Are you sure, Liv?”

I almost laugh. This is the last thing I expected, to have Alex asking for my consent instead of the other way around. But somehow, it’s also right. I search inside myself, something I never really bothered to do before when all of my focus was on Alex. The tangled knot of guilt around my heart loosens its grip, and I find my answer. I want to make love with her. I want to salvage something from this mess. I want to prove that I’m still worthy of Alex’s trust, and that she can be worthy of mine again.

“Yeah,” I say, holding her tighter when the word cracks. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

This time, I am not afraid when she kisses me. My anger dissolves into smooth, liquid heat. It starts in my chest, but each heartbeat spreads the tingling warmth through the rest of my body. It flares beneath both of Alex’s palms, surges to meet her lips, and pools between my legs. The slow burn is worlds away from the uncontrollable blaze I felt earlier, and my confidence begins to return. I can do this. I can be gentle with her.

I undress her slowly, pausing in between each piece of clothing to admire her. The shirt comes first, and I smile when I realize it’s one of mine. She probably didn’t even think about what she was wearing in her hurry to chase after me. Alex lifts her arms so I can pull it over her head, and all the air rushes out of my chest. I’ve seen her shirtless a thousand times, but there are still moments when I can’t believe how beautiful she is.

My kisses drift away from her lips, wandering down the smooth line of her jaw and lingering at the curve of her throat. I can taste just a hint of salt, smell the subtle traces of sex lingering from a few hours ago. My stomach clenches. This time is going to be different. Maybe Alex senses that I’m lost in my own head, because she links her fingers with mine, pulling them down to the hem of her jeans. My heart pounds almost painfully against my ribs as we unloop the button and pull down the zipper together.

It takes me several moments to gather the courage to look between her legs. Even though I checked to make sure she was all right before, I’m afraid of what I might find. I close my eyes and start to pull my hand away, but Alex only grips it tighter. “I’m fine, Olivia.” A shudder travels down my spine as she presses my palm against the soft, bare skin of her stomach. “Let me show you.” She guides my fingertips lower, low enough to feel the soft prickle of hair that’s just starting to grow back. Then I can only feel smoothness and heat, and my eyes fly open again.

My fingers are resting against her, nearly inside of her. Her outer lips are swollen and parted, inviting me to push forward. The bud of her clit is strained beneath its hood. Her folds are shimmering with wetness. But since I don’t trust her body, I tear my gaze away and force myself to look at her face instead. The love there is enough to convince me. For once, she isn’t pleading for me to help banish her pain. She just wants to be with me. 

I dip forward to kiss along her collarbone, and together, we ease down onto the mattress. My fingers slide up to her clit, painting over it in circles until her hips start pushing into mine. I draw strength from her reactions, savor each soft cry coming from above my head as my lips glide across her chest. She trusts me to make her feel good. No lies, no pretending, and no more deception. 

“Liv, please… lower...” I move my fingers lower, spreading them in a ‘v’ shape around her clit so I can drag along either side of the firm little shaft. One of her hands comes to rest on top of my head, and she pushes down, raking her fingers through my hair. “No, your mouth…” I take the cherry-red point of her nipple between my lips and curl my tongue around it. Her pelvis shoots up off the bed, and more wetness smears against my thigh. “No, lower…”

That surprises me. Alex tolerates oral sex for my sake, and even manages to enjoy it sometimes, but she rarely ever asks for it. I graze the curve of her breast with my teeth and kiss my way down her stomach. “Are you sure?” I murmur into the soft skin just above her navel.

She takes in a shaking breath and nods her head. “Please…” Her knees fall further open, and that small gesture of trust makes my chest swell with love.

I can’t resist the pleading note of desire in her voice. I shift down on the bed until I’m settled comfortably between her thighs. She whimpers at the loss of my hand, but lets out a sharp gasp when my lips take its place. A flood covers my chin as soon as I pull her clit into my mouth. She’s already close, twitching and throbbing against my tongue, but I am determined to take my time. I need this connection to heal.

I explore every inch of her, never staying in one place long enough to let her come. When she starts bucking too hard, trying to push herself deeper into my mouth, I ease her back with soft kisses to the tip of her clit and move down to tease her entrance instead. The sweetness there is enough to make my head spin, and her inner muscles flutter and clutch down when I press my tongue inside. I drink my fill until the firm spot against her front wall swells to bursting and her fingers tangle into my hair. She opens her mouth, tries to ask me to stay, but I’ve already switched to flat, broad strokes of my tongue, covering everything at once.

I don’t know how long I spend keeping her balanced on the edge. The seconds stretch out into an endless thread, with no beginning or end in sight. But at last, everything unravels. Her spine arches, and her knees hook tighter over my shoulders. Each strand of muscle pulls taut, and I feel my breath stop along with hers. A burst of heat pours over my mouth, and I catch as much as I can before sealing my lips back around her.

Suddenly, the world tilts. I’m being flipped over before her contractions are even finished. And then it’s her mouth burning down along my stomach, her fingers pushing inside of me. Feeling her come has exposed every ragged nerve ending in my body, and her name tears out of my throat. “Alex…” as she buries her face between my thighs. “Alex…” as she curls forward, coaxing me higher with gentle thrusts of her hand. “God, I love you, Alex…”

She’s pulling me in, surrounding me with softness and heat. She knows me, knows my body as well as she knows her own, and with each flick of her tongue, each pump of her wrist, she proves it all over again. Tears run down my cheeks, but I’m too overwhelmed to brush them away. Instead, my hands shoot down to clutch at her shoulders, to drink in her skin. I have to touch her, any part of her that I can reach.

I tremble beneath her, unsure where she’s carrying me, but her other hand slides up along my thigh, folding just above my knee and squeezing to offer reassurance. She looks up from between my legs and locks her eyes with mine. They are softer than I have ever seen them, overflowing with love and trust. And I love her back. I love her enough to let myself trust her again.

The next stroke of her tongue breaks me. Everything I’ve been holding inside splinters apart. My chest shatters, and warmth rushes in to fill the void. I rock desperately against her hand, and a flood of wetness spills from inside me, pushing out around her fingers. Her lips draw me just a little deeper, fold a little tighter until I’m twitching wildly in the blazing silk of her mouth. But even while I fall to pieces, there is no trace of the fear I felt before. This is perfectly, undeniably right.

I’m not sure whether it’s a few seconds or a few minutes later when I see Alex’s beaming face hovering above mine. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her this happy… probably not since before the Cavanaugh case. She’s finally giving me a real smile, the kind that makes my face hurt from smiling back so hard. 

“I think you needed that as much as I did,” she says, and I bury my wet face into her shoulder to muffle my laughter. That’s the smug, confident attitude I’m used to dealing with. I finally have my Alex back. “Liv?” she asks, obviously confused by my reaction. “Liv, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I breathe against her neck. “I think I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”


	23. Chapter 23

"Olivia?"

I lift my eyes to look at the woman sitting in front of me. She stares back with a concerned expression on her face, forehead creased, the edges of her lips tucked down in the merest hint of a frown. She crosses her legs like Alex does, but that's where the resemblance ends. She's older and shorter, with thick dark hair, and to be honest, she's a little less icy on first impression than Alex can be.

"Olivia, are you all right? You haven't said anything for the last few minutes."

I shrug my shoulders. It's not that I don't want to cooperate. I got a recommendation from Huang first thing yesterday morning, and called Doctor Astor on my lunch break a few hours later. When she told me she had an opening the next day, I jumped at the chance. I'm not usually the type to run away from my problems, but now, staring up at her, I'm not sure what to say.

She's a stranger. She doesn't know me or Alex. She doesn't know what we've been through together. She doesn't know what the job does to people like us. And I can't help but wonder how my story will sound when I'm telling it to someone completely uninvolved. Part of me is afraid that I'll come across as… damaged? Evil? I'm not sure.

"Sorry," I mumble, twisting my hands in my lap. I'm too emotionally drained to pretend I'm not nervous. "I guess I'm just not sure what to tell you. I don't know what will help me feel better."

She leans forward in her chair. "One step at a time. You've told me a little about your job and your relationship, but you haven't said anything about why you're here. Are you feeling anxious? Depressed?"

I am feeling both those things, but I decide to go with the word that's practically screaming in my head. "Afraid. I'm here because I'm afraid. But I can't decide whether I'm afraid of being hurt, or whether I'm afraid of hurting someone else."

If Doctor Astor is surprised, it doesn't show on her face. "Someone? You mean Alex?" I nod. Alex's name was the first one on my lips when I had walked in the door. She consumed my thoughts, even though we haven't seen each other in two days. "Why do you think you're going to hurt her?"

That isn't a question I want to answer, but I start talking anyway.

Everything comes pouring out. The story winds in a long, disorganized thread, and I jump back and forth several times, but I'm desperate to fill the silence. I couldn't give Huang any concrete details, and no one at work even knows I'm dating Alex except for Elliot. This is the first time I've actually been able to talk about her, about us, or about what happened with anyone else. I talk about how we met. About how happy I was to be with her. About how she makes me laugh and smile, and about how much it frightened me when I found out about her fantasies. I'm surprised at how liberating it feels. The ball of tension in my chest pops, and I feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

"...And at first, I wasn't sure what to think. I mean, I was conceived through rape. I saw what it did to my mother. How it destroyed her, how it made her hate me. So I felt betrayed. How could she like it? How could she want something like that to happen to her?"

Doctor Astor keeps listening, so I keep talking. Her eyes stay fixed on me. I hesitate when I get to the next part. The part when I realized that I enjoyed Alex's fantasies, too. Some of my relief fades. My jaw clenches, and I dig my nails into my palms. "...but afterward, I didn't feel bad about it. I just felt bad about not feeling bad. And I wanted to do it again."

I stare into her eyes. Try to peer into her brain and see what she's thinking about me. She doesn't look disgusted, and she doesn't seem to be judging me. Kind of like Huang. Maybe all therapists have a 'face' they can put on. If Huang knows her, that probably means she's worked with a lot of sick people. I'm probably not the worst she's seen. "What's the situation now?" she asks. "Are you still experimenting with this fantasy?"

I dig my teeth into my lower lip. I'm not sure how to answer. "Sort of? Two days ago, we… I…" My heels kick nervously against the bottom of the couch. "She lied to me about something important. Something that could have cost both of us our jobs. I got angry, and… she told me she liked it, says I didn't hurt her, but…"

"But you don't believe her." Doctor Astor finished the sentence for me. "Can you tell me why not?"

"She lied to me before. Why not about this?"

She stares at me for a long moment. "Do you think she's lying?"

I think back. Alex's face swims in my head. She's looking at me, and her eyes are soft and full of trust as she gazes up from between my thighs. The knot of tension in my chest chokes up tighter. "No," I mumble. "I don't think she's lying. Not about this."

"Then why are you so afraid that you've hurt her?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Because I see the same thing every fucking day when I go to work. The abusive boyfriend that pushes too far. Sometimes he doesn't even know it."

Doctor Astor sits back in her chair and pulls out a notepad and a pen. My stomach clenches. I don't like the fact that she's suddenly decided to take notes about me, but I can't bring myself to say anything. "We're going to try a thought challenging exercise." She draws a line through the middle of the paper and turns it around to show me. "On the first side, we're going to list the reasons why it's useful, even helpful, to compare yourself to a rapist. On the other side, we're going to list the reasons why it's harmful."

Suggestions for the first side are easy to come up with. "Because it helps me police my behavior. Because it makes me cautious, makes me question my choices, makes me stop and think. Because it means I'll never turn into the same monster my father was…" I pause. Except maybe I already have.

She holds up her hand. "I'm going to stop you right there. Why do you need this thought, 'I could be a rapist', to take those steps?"

I swallow, but the sore lump in my throat doesn't move. "I… guess I don't," I mumble.

She turns the chart back around. One side is crammed with words. The other is empty. "Now, tell me why this thought is harmful."

I have to think about my answer for a long time. The harder I try to grasp, the more words fall away. "Is 'it makes me feel like crap' a valid answer to the question?"

Doctor Astor nods. "Yes, your feelings are a valid reason to let go of that thought. Anything else?"

"It hurts Alex when I have those thoughts, too. I know it does."

She flips the pad of paper around and starts writing again. Then, she passes it over to me. "All right. Read through that, and hold up your hands like a scale. Which side do you want to give more weight?"

I stare down at the paper. Even though one side is cluttered and the other only has two bullet points, I know which one I have to pick. I ignore the sick, guilty feeling in my stomach and stare at four letters in the center of the second column: A-L-E-X. I sigh. "Us. Me and Alex. We have more weight."

Doctor Astor takes the notepad back and rips off the sheet of paper. Then, she folds it up and passes it back to me. "You have good instincts, Olivia. More people should question themselves the way you do, but I think you've pondered this particular question long enough. You have a good reason to let it go."

I smile. "I have the best reason."

. . .

"So, how's she doing?" Elliot asks as he leans against the wall beside me.

I don't turn to look at at him. My arms stay crossed over my chest, and my eyes remain fixed on the large, wooden double doors of the courtroom. I haven't actually seen Alex in the past three days. We've talked on the phone, but our schedules have kept us apart. I think she's doing it on purpose, trying to maintain some distance at work just in case Cragen decides to punish us for her "mistake".

"Not great," I say after a while. "Not terrible, either. I think she's just relieved that it's over."

"She thinks it's over?" Elliot asks. I can hear the surprise in his voice. "I thought there was a good chance Petrovsky would trash all our evidence?"

I shake my head. "Not with Alex arguing. She planned this too carefully. Just watch. In another minute, she'll come strolling out through those doors to tell us the tapes are in."

It actually takes another two minutes for court to adjourn, but aside from that, my guess is right on. Alex isn't smiling when she exits the courtroom, but her shoulders are squared instead of slumped, and she looks as sleek and sharp as ever. Her glasses are perched perfectly on her nose, and she doesn't have a hair out of place. Only the dark circles under her eyes that her makeup doesn't quite hide give her away.

"The tapes are in," she says when she reaches us.

I push off the wall to greet her, resisting the temptation to pull her into a hug. I've missed her terribly over the past few days. Being close to her again makes my chest ache. "Good. I knew they would be. But what about you?"

"Petrovsky acted like I killed her dog. One more enemy to add to the list."

"You took a big chance," Elliot says. The rest of the thought hangs in the silence between us. She took a big chance on us, not just herself.

Alex has the decency to look repentant. "You were never in jeopardy. I made sure of that. This will all fall on me."

"You still should have told us," he says, but when I look over at him, I can tell his resolve is weakening. He thinks she did the right thing. Even though his trust in her is shaken, his respect for her has probably doubled.

Alex's mouth tightens. I'm barely quick enough to catch the flash of guilt in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," I whisper. I know it isn't the whole truth.

"I am sorry you were ever in the middle of this. But you're right. I'm not sorry about the rest." She switches her briefcase to her left hand and shoves her glasses further up her nose, turning away and facing the other end of the hall. "I have to go. I have an arraignment."

"I'll walk you," I offer before she can escape. Perceptive as always, Elliot gives me a quiet nod of approval. He pulls the front of his jacket closed and heads for the back security exit, disappearing through the crowd. I turn back to Alex. "You don't really have an arraignment, do you?" I ask once he's out of earshot.

"No." She gives me a weak smile. "Just an hour for lunch… but I'm not particularly hungry. I have a meeting with Liz afterwards."

I flinch. "This is it, huh?"

"Yeah, this is it. In a few hours, I might not have a job anymore."

"You know it doesn't matter, right? Not to me, anyway. I wouldn't care if you took a job at the worst fast food place in Manhattan."

Her small smile grows a little wider. "What about a garbagewoman?"

"Double showers."

"Defense attorney?"

"As long as you don't work for Trevor Langan's firm. Then we'll have to break up."

She laughs and passes me her briefcase. The spark is back in her eyes. It might come and go again over the next several days, but at least she's showing signs of life. "Come on, Detective Benson. Why don't you buy me lunch? You can tell me how therapy went and keep me distracted before I go into the dragon's lair."

I reach into my pocket and clutch the folded piece of paper there. "Okay. Sounds like a plan."


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Noncon roleplay, use of the cock, forced blowjob, humiliation kink, rough sex... come on, if you're on the epilogue of this story and you've read any other project by me at all, you know exactly what's coming.

Each breath is a roar in my head as I wait beside the door. The living room is dark, but I’ve been here for so long that my eyes have adjusted. A faint crease of light creeping in from the hallway leaves black fingers of shadow stretched across the floor. Some of them take my shape, so I shift further along the wall, making sure they won’t be visible when she finally opens the door.

We’ve spent the past month working up to this. Alex’s thirty day suspension gave us plenty of time to talk, and it gave me plenty of time to think. Rebuilding trust hasn’t been easy, but I think we’re ready for this. We scripted it out beat by beat. We picked the day before she’s supposed to return to work, a day I know she’ll be excited instead of depressed. I’ve come up with my own safe word in case I change my mind. If we’re going to try this again, I’m determined to do it right.

My thoughts splinter when I start to hear different sounds above my own racing heart - muffled footsteps followed by the soft jangling of keys. I swallow. Hold my breath. Wait. My palms are sweating inside of my gloves. The knob turns with a soft click, and my shoulders tense. I’m incredibly nervous, but I’m also excited. The heavy pounding I feel isn’t only in my chest. It radiates all the way down between my legs, and I’m suddenly more aware of the harness I’m wearing beneath my jeans.

At last, the door swings open. All I can see is Alex’s silhouette, but she seems to be glowing in the hallway’s light. It catches her hair and the very edge of her face, bringing out their softness. In the split second before I move, I can tell she feels the same as I do, afraid and eager at the same time. 

As soon as she steps into the apartment, I lunge forward and pin her to the wall. Even though she’s expecting it, I manage to take her by surprise. She nearly screams before I manage to clap my hand over her mouth. Her eyes are wide and more than a little terrified, but they soften ever so slightly when she makes out the details of my face in the dark. She knows what this is, and when she freezes up against me, I can tell it’s a deliberate reaction.

I kick the door shut and wait several seconds before I remove my hand. She has other ways of calling this off, but I still want her mouth free just in case. I keep her pressed into the wall with the weight of my body, pushing my hips forward to make sure she feels the outline of the cock I’m wearing against her hip. A shiver runs between us, through her and into me, and I know I have her.

“W-what do you want?” she whispers.

Her fearful stammer is more convincing than I expect, and it takes me a second to collect myself. I’m grateful that we scripted this in advance. “What do I want?” I slide my hand down, teasing her through the thin fabric of her blouse before I slip beneath her skirt. My gentleness fades, and I cup her as roughly as I can. “This.”

Alex’s breath skates over her teeth, and I can feel the tension in her body as she resists the temptation to arch her back and pump her hips forward. She tries to pull away instead, but there’s nowhere for her to go. “Please, don’t…”

I cut off the rest of her protests with my mouth. She screams and bites down on my lower lip, but I kiss her through the slight pain, grinding the heel of my hand even harder against her. Warmth seeps through the fabric of her panties and into my palm, and I feel a huge sense of relief. Even though it’s not proof of anything, it’s consistent with what I know about Alex and her body, and I allow myself to take pleasure in her pleasure.

She tries to squirm free, but I tighten my grip, pulling her away from the wall and twisting one of her arms behind her back. That makes her freeze again, and it gives me just enough time to reach for the restraints tucked inside my jacket. I yank her other arm into place and bind her hands as quickly as I can, only pausing long enough to check that the cuffs aren’t too tight around her wrists.

Alex starts struggling the moment she realizes she’s trapped. She thrashes, screams, kicks out with her feet. Even though she’s putting on a convincing performance, fighting me harder than some of the perps I’ve collared, it’s not too difficult to subdue her. I’m much stronger than she is, and she doesn’t stand a chance with her arms behind her back. In the end, I force her to her knees, and she tilts her face up toward me. My heart stops.

She’s beautiful, staring up at me with sweet blue eyes behind the crooked frames of her glasses. Her hair has fallen out of its twist, and she is still panting audibly with every breath. With her hands trapped behind her back, the quick rise and fall of her chest makes her breasts strain against the front of her blouse. An uneven flush is spreading across her face and around her collarbone, vivid enough for me to see in the dark. And suddenly, I need her. Not just want her, but need her with an ache so painful and desperate that I can barely stand it.

A wave of possessiveness rises in me, and instead of fighting it, I welcome it. I shove one hand into her hair and yank forward, ignoring her wordless protests. “Unzip me.”

Alex stares up at me in surprise. This small detail wasn’t in our script, but I see her eyes grow even larger when she realizes what I’m asking. She shakes her head and turns her face away, and her glasses slip even further down the bridge of her nose. I fist her hair tighter, forcing her to look up at me. My other hand slides up from her shoulder to her throat, squeezing just tight enough to feel her pulse hammer beneath my fingers. I would never choke her even if she asked, but I feel her heart rate pick up at the threat. “I said unzip me.”

“With what?” She manages to give the question an edge of defiance, struggling against the cuffs, but her pulse spikes again as she confirms that she’s truly helpless.

I smirk. Since she’s so committed to her role, I can’t help but follow along. “Figure it out.” I drag her face back towards me and wait. She tries to pull away, but eventually, my patience wins out. After giving me a very realistic glare, she takes my zipper between her teeth and tugs. She manages to stifle most of her gasp as the cock pushes out through my open fly, but I can feel it against my palm anyway. Her head jerks back, but the nearly pleading look reflected in her eyes and the way her lips are parted give me all the encouragement I need to keep goading her.

“See something you like?”

She shakes her head and refuses to answer. 

I loosen my grip on her throat and let my hand wander down to the collar of her shirt, playing with the top button of her blouse for a moment before popping it open. She flinches as another inch of fabric peels away from her skin. “No?” Another button, another flinch, this time followed by a visible shudder as the lacy edge of her bra peeks into view. “That’s not what I heard.” The third button leaves most of her breasts exposed, and I feel myself twitch. “When I visited your office, they told me that ADA Cabot lives to suck cock.”

Alex bites her lip in embarrassment. Her eyes dart down to linger on the shaft sticking out from my pants, but only for a moment. She hardens her face and slumps her shoulders, trying to show as little skin as possible. I hook my finger through the middle of her shirt and drag her forward again, forcing her to arch her back as I tear through the rest of the blouse. The last few buttons pop and scatter, and her shirt falls open, revealing almost everything. I tug her bra down next, freeing her breasts and leaving the cups around the middle of her torso. Her nipples are already hard, so it’s easy to take one between my fingertips and tug.

Just as I had hoped, a surprised groan escapes her lips. I leave her breasts and stroke my hand down the side of her cheek in a soft line, enjoying the way the gentle touch coaxes a shiver from her tense body. “That’s a good girl. I knew you’d like it. And you have such a pretty mouth…” 

Suddenly, pain pierces the side of my hand. Even though I’m expecting it, I’m not fully prepared when her teeth sink into my skin. It’s a real bite, not permanently damaging, but hard enough to hurt. I jerk my hand back. “Fuck!”

The curse is instinctive, and Alex drops character for a split second, looking up at me with genuine concern. But I recover quickly. I pull my arm back, and my palm connects with the side of her face. The slap is more noise than force, but when I pull my hand away from her cheek, I can tell that the red mark I’ve left behind will take a few minutes to fade. Her eyes shine brighter in the darkness, swimming with unshed tears, but even though I give her a few moments to say her safe word, I know I won’t hear it. She wants me to keep going.

I summon all the pretend-anger I can and grab her chin, forcing her to stare up at me. “You little bitch…” She trembles at the insult, but I don’t hesitate. I pry her jaw open and fist her tangled hair, forcing the tip of my cock past her puffy lips. This time, she doesn’t resist, but she continues glaring at me. There’s resistance as I push forward, and I tighten my grip on her head. “Bite me again, and I’ll make you scream to keep your mouth open.”

Something in her breaks. I feel the exact moment when she stops fighting. Her entire body relaxes and several more inches of my cock slip into her mouth. Its outline stretches her cheeks, putting the red mark on even more prominent display. She lets out a groan around the shaft, and the noise sends a rush of heat directly between my legs. Pressure is starting to build inside of me, and my inner muscles clutch down around the shorter end of the shaft. “That’s better,” I say in a slightly hoarse voice, unable to hide all of my need, “but it’s going to take more work than that to get me off.”

This time, Alex doesn’t offer up any protests. She begins bobbing her head, sliding up and down along the top half of the shaft. It glistens whenever she pulls back to suck the fluted tip, and I hold her head tight to keep her there for a moment. The sight of her lips sealed around me and the soft tugs traveling down the shaft send a painful lance of need through my abdomen. She looks beautiful, torn perfectly between pretend reluctance and very real desire, and the contrast has me throbbing against the seat of my cock.

It’s difficult to remember how to talk while I’m watching her beautiful mouth work, but eventually, I manage something. “Fuck, you’re good at this. Guess you’ve had a lot of practice… I bet the judges fight over who gets to hear your cases.” She pauses and looks up at me, and I catch the tiniest hint of amusement behind the pretend-fear. I have to hide a smile as I pull her hair in punishment. “Did I tell you to stop?”

Alex resumes what she’s doing, and my ability to talk disappears again. This time, she lets my cock slide out of her mouth with a slick pop, flattening her tongue against the shaft and dragging it all the way up from the base. When she finally reaches the head, she places a wet, open-mouthed kiss over the very tip. It’s all for show, but the sight sends a jolt directly to my clit, and I swear I can feel more than just silicone rubbing against me.

I’m supposed to make her keep servicing me until I come, draw out her humiliation, but I can’t help myself. The heavy, pounding ache between my legs doubles every second, and just watching her drags me closer to the edge. I forget that I’m putting on a performance and hold tight to the back of her head, pushing past her lips until I hit the back of her throat. I can’t feel the heat of her mouth or the softness of her tongue, but I can feel the motion, the vibrations of each muffled cry, the resistance that meets every pump of my hips.

I abandon the rest of the script. I need her too much.

I thrust as hard as I can without hurting her, desperate to relieve some of the pressure inside of me. I’m so close. So swollen and strained. So full that each movement threatens to shatter me. Against my better judgment, I look down one last time. Alex is even more beautiful than before, and the image sticks at the front of my mind. Her flushed face. The way her hair is half-falling out of its twist. The angry red imprint on her burning cheek. The way the shaft of my cock stretches her swollen lips. And on top of it all, those glasses, pushed down just far enough on her nose to reveal her cloudy blue eyes.

And then it’s over. I lose myself, shouting out her name as I come. My release rips through me, shaking me apart with every pulse. It sends shudders up the length of my cock as my clit twitches wildly against the seat. I can’t help it. I push just a little bit further, force her throat to take another inch and rake my nails along her scalp. The pressure against my front wall finally bursts, and I let out a deep groan of relief.

But the relief disappears as soon as I come. It’s not enough. I’m still tense. Full. Slick and unsatisfied. And when Alex pulls away from my loosening grip and shifts uncomfortably on her heels, biting at her lower lip and letting out a sweet little whimper of need, I feel a fresh stab of hunger. She hasn’t come yet. I want her to come. Need her to come. Need to force an orgasm from her soft, vulnerable body and rip her down into a shaking, sobbing mess. Her need is my need, just like every other time.

I drop to my knees, forcing her the rest of the way down onto the floor with a hard shove. She’s surprised - I was supposed to take her against the wall - but I don’t trust my legs after my orgasm, and I’m too impatient for such a complicated position. I hurry to kneel behind her instead, checking one last time to make sure the cuffs are still in place. With her arms trapped behind her back, she has no way to support her upper body, but her hips are still the perfect height. All I need to do is pull her skirt down around her thighs and snap the flimsy scrap of lace on either side of her panties.

Alex gasps when the fabric flutters to the floor, but it quickly turns into a groan when my hands settle around her hips. She tries to make it a groan of protest, to say another one of the defiant lines she’s chosen, but I’m too impatient to wait for it. Without her clothes in the way, I can finally see how much she needs me. How slick and ready and open she is. The swollen bud of her clit is straining against its hood, and the glistening ring of muscle at her entrance is already pulsing. I want to bury myself inside her, push as deep as I can, but I force myself to wait a few more torturous seconds

“Fuck, your pussy’s dripping for me.” The words send another spill of shimmering wetness down along one of her bare thighs. She arches her spine, lifting hips just a little bit higher. “Needy little slut. I knew you liked sucking my cock, but I didn’t think it would get you this wet.”

The insult reminds her she’s supposed to be fighting me instead of encouraging me. She doesn’t try to pull away as I press the tip of my cock against her, but she does manage a fairly convincing, “Please, don’t…”

It ends in a scream when I tighten my grip on her waist and thrust forward. It only takes one stroke. She’s still incredibly tight, so tight that I can feel every tug of muscle through the shaft, but the first half of the scene has left her a mess. She really is dripping, covering the length of my cock and the front of my jeans. Except for one glistening inch at the very base, I’m all the way in her.

I start to move, drawing out just enough to make Alex’s breath hitch in disappointment before I push back in. She writhes against the floor, thrashing and trying to escape one moment, rocking back to take me as deep as she can the next. She’s torn, stretched between two extremes, and the muscles in her back and shoulders ripple as she fights against the cuffs. I glance down between our bodies, and I nearly come when I realize that I’m completely buried inside her. Getting her to take that last stubborn inch is nearly impossible.

I skip the rest of the dirty words. We don’t need them anymore. All I care about is fucking her. The unbearable pressure returns, twisting deep inside me and pounding harder with each push of my hips. She starts sobbing protests into the carpet, but they’re broken and pitched more like pleas. “Stop!” I dig my nails into her hips, rake them down over her thighs. “Too... too much…” I drape myself over her back, lowering myself just enough to sink my teeth into her shoulder. “It - it hurts, you’re splitting me open, I-” But I know she wants me to hurt her. To fill her. To leave her bruised and shaking.

I thrust even faster, pushing her past the point of pleasure and up to the edge of pain. I can feel when I hit the line because her body spasms beneath mine and her muscles starts rippling wildly around me. She’s about to come. She won’t last more than another few seconds. I can already feel her front wall swelling, and I angle my hips to drag over it with each thrust. Having her like this is intoxicating. She’s completely open to me. Completely mine. But there’s one more thing I need to do.

I let go of her hip and shove my hand between her legs, trapping the shaft of her clit between two of my fingers. The sharp pinch makes every muscle in her body stiffen, and I lean down to whisper beside her ear. “Come for me, whore.” There are more humiliating things I could say, more lines I’ve practiced, but I don’t need them. She spasms as soon as I say the words. Her muscles clutch tight around my cock, and a gush of wetness spills around the base, splashing over my harness and soaking the front of my jeans. Even for her, it’s impressive.

As soon as Alex comes, my own need flares up again. I forced it down just long enough to make sure she was satisfied, but now that I’ve made her mine - completely, endlessly mine - I can’t wait anymore. I pump into her one last time, groaning against the curve of her throat as her inner walls ripple around me. She’s still coming, still shaking with the strength of her release, but she tilts her pelvis to give me just the right angle and squeezes down as hard as she can around me.

Everything I’ve been holding back comes flooding out. All of the tension. All of the fullness. All of my possessiveness. My clit jerks hard against the seat of the cock, sending shudders up through the shaft. Each contraction untangles the hard knot in my stomach, and every ragged pulse rips through my abdomen. My lips form soundless words against her neck. The only words I can manage.

“I love you…”

I fuck her until I’ve pushed through my peak and fallen into weak, fluttering aftershocks. She collapses beneath me, splaying out across the floor. Since I’m still buried inside her, I have to follow. Her arms press up uncomfortably into my belly, and I rest my weight on one elbow, hurrying to undo the cuffs. She lets out a long sigh and stretches her arms above her head, flexing her fingers in the carpet and purring almost like a cat. Then, she turns to look back over her shoulder at me, rolling her eyes over the tops of her glasses. “I love you, too, but blowing the judges? Really?”

My face splits in a grin. “Hey, you told me what to say. You didn’t tell me who to say it about...”

“You and Elliot are never going to get tired of that stupid joke, are you?”

“Nope.”

She sighs again and closes her eyes, resting her cheek against the carpet. “You’re all right, aren’t you, Liv?”

“Of course… aside from a few teeth marks. That really hurt.”

She cracks one eye open. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know.” I search down inside of myself, trying to dredge up any feelings of guilt or shame, but I’m surprisingly calm. I’m exhausted and more than a little sore, but happy. Happier than I’ve felt in a very long time. I slide my hips back, and although Alex lets out a soft moan of disappointment, she doesn’t try to stop me. I roll onto my side, resting my chin in my hand. “I’m fine, Alex. This was… this was how it’s supposed to be.”

She opens her eyes again, and when she smiles at me, the last of my worries vanish. “Yes. This is exactly how it’s supposed to be.”


End file.
